A most peculiar arrangement
by Holmes009
Summary: Sherlock returns after two years, not everything is quite as he left it. Mycroft has been harboring a certain Mrs Holmes in his home. Post Reichenbach.
1. Chapter 1

He let himself in quietly, careful not to let the latch click as he closed Mycroft's front door. A pleasant glow emitted from the downstairs living quarters, Sherlock walked slowly, observing the surroundings of his brother's home as he tried to piece together what the niggly off feeling was tugging in his mind.

Inside the room Mycroft was standing by the window, blazer discarded on his desk chair, top button unfastened, a glass of scotch in his right hand, the left was rubbing his temple - the beginnings of a migraine. He looked oddly tense and uncomfortable as if something weighed particularly heavy on his mind.

"I wondered how long it would take you, brother mine"

Sherlock threw himself onto the sofa "well I've been a busy boy, being dead and all that" he flexed his fingers on the arm rest, long gangly legs thrown harpazardly over each other "what have I missed?"

"Not much" was the dry response.

Sherlock glanced about the room whilst Mycroft drawled on. Stuff. There was too much stuff in here that didn't belong to his brother. Since when did Mycroft smoke Lambert? There was a grey scarf hung up on the door too that looked out of place. Odd objects littered his desk, things that he knew were not usual belongings that occupied his brother's home.

"Baker Street is quite secure dear brother, I've seen to that. Mrs Hudson has been informed I presume?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes yes, I gave her quite the scare. Dare say I livened up her morning Sudoku" he stood up and started snooping through some of the items on the desk, not in the least bit interested in Mycroft's waffling.

Mycroft set his tumbler down next to an already empty - but not previously one. "don't you think you ought to go there, do things. After all it's where you live and I imagine after two years you've got quite a bit to do there - Sherlock are you even listening?"

He watched Mycroft set down his scotch, noticing the empty one beside it and snatched it up to his nose, sniffing the remnants of its contents. "since when do you drink Jack?" Mycroft tilted his head to the side, squinting slightly "or wear lipstick?"

He spun round, scanning the room, vacuuming up all the information he could into his brain. Various things stuck out to him, Mycroft's home had never looked lived in - ever. Everything was normally sterile in appearance and nothing would look used. The more he looked the more he noticed. A pair of women's sensible black heels where placed by the door - size 5, worn daily. A few loose hair pins were scattered atop the mantle piece as well as a tube of strawberry flavored lipbarm and Sherlock broke out into a low chuckle.

"Mycroft you dark horse" he snickered, "a woman really?" he allowed himself to laugh despite the look of disapproval on his brothers face, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry but really come on, you? whatever happened to not needing a goldfish?"

Mycroft looked glum and sighed, "as per usual as of late dear brother your deductions are becoming sloppy, and I wouldn't be quite so smug if I were you. More to the point what are you doing here?"

"My flat is considerably less occupied than I had left it" Sherlock was suddenly sombre. A heavy expression hung on his face as he tucked his hands into his coat pockets, mentally preparing himself to swallow his pride and ask his dear old big brother for help. "she's not there, hasn't been for a long time. I need you t-" and that's when he smelt it, a musky fragrance - a familiarly heavy perfume.

He sniffed a couple of times at the air, all the while staring at his brother with a very unnatural confused expression. Mycroft sighed and braced himself, he knew this was inevitable. Sherlock followed his nose and backed his way towards the door he had entered through, the familiar smell was coming from the hallway and of course, upstairs.

Before Mycroft could speak, and offer any kind of explanation, Sherlock had spun on his heels and bolted up the stairs, missing every other one as he went. No lights were on upstairs, no sounds other than Mycroft's foot steps, somewhat more tactical on his ascent up the stairs behind Sherlock. He nudged every door open and peered inside as he made his way across the landing until finally there was one door left ajar. Mycroft's bedroom.

With a backwards dirty look at Mycroft he edged closer and nudged the door open and he could feel the elder Holmes' presence behind him, since given up trying to stop his younger brother intruding in his upstairs quarters. The familiar fragrance was practically radiating from inside the room, he could make out articles of clothing abandoned on the floor, familiar clothing, clothing he knew and recognised. With one hand holding the door open, his wide eyes followed the trail of garments to the bed in disbelief until he found the culprit. He no doubt recognised his wife's dark hair strewn across Mycroft's pillow, her head just visible above the thick covers, snoring lightly and all too comfortable for Sherlock's liking to be asleep in his brother's bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two years ago.**

She heard soft footsteps coming up the stairs accompanied by the unmistakable signature clunk of his umbrella. The flat was dark aside from one small lamp that barely gave off enough light to be considered useful.

It had been 20 minutes since she had heard the news, 20 minutes she had been in limbo, 20 minutes since she had become a widow.

A soft knock on the living room door before he let himself in, not waiting to be invited. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes stony, everything about his expression radiated unpleasant thoughts, yet his posture remained firm and taut, unnaturally wooden. He interlinked his fingers over his umbrella handle and waited for recognition. None came.

He tilted his head forward, regarding what he could see of her in the dim light with raised eyebrows. She was sat up rigid in Sherlock's chair, the evidence of a cold cup of tea by her left foot, the evidence of the mobile telephone she had no doubt heard of Sherlock's demise by the other. Her skirt hem ruler straight across her knees, manicured hands placed delicately on top, blouse buttoned top most beneath her chin and a sheer grey scarf hung like a false tie around her straight neck. Her dark hair was exactly fixed as it had been that morning, not a strand out of place. There was no sign there had been tears on her pale face, everything was too immaculate.

She turned her gaze to Mycroft and he noticed her top lip was wobbling, like a petulant child that had just been scolded and afterwards that awkward phase where it's uncertain if a tantrum is going to ensure or not. But it didn't. Just a sharp intake of shaky breath before her gaze returned to the nothingness in front of her.

"Tea" he breathed, breaking the silence. He placed his umbrella silently against the wall before he removed his blazer and strolled into the kitchen, adjusting his shirt cuffs to roll up his sleeves as he went. "You prefer it black, yes?"

There was no response, only the quiet footsteps of his brother's spouse padding over to where he was, mid-rummage in one of the cluttered overhead cupboards. He heard his name spoken in a whisper and turned to find her within arms reach of him. Brown eyes stared blankly at his perfected tie knot. Without a hint of reluctance he opened his arms to welcome her in embracement and she slumped forwards. Unknowing where to appropriately put his hands he placed them on her back and rested his chin atop her head. He could feel how unsteadily she leant against him and the unmistakable dampening of his shirt from her tears. That was the first physical contact they had ever shared in ten years.

"Oh sister-inlaw mine"

 **Present.**

His brain was whirling ten to the dozen, but only one conclusion pushed its way to the front and burned in Sherlock's mind. One conclusion rendered him immobile of any rational reaction. His wife of a decade was tucked up snugly in the bed of another, none other than his own flesh and blood, that was Mycroft's bed. His personal and private space was being shared with someone he most definitely ought not be getting personal or private with.

"What is the meaning of this?" he grunted. Mycroft shamefully shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Would the term, "not what it looks like" be consolable to you right now? If you would care for me to explain this predicament with reason and facts, I'm sure your blood pressure would return to normal"

"Reason and facts are no satisfactory explanation for you bedding my wife!" his voice steadily rose to an almost shout he could not contain, finger shaking as it pointed accusingly at the sleeping form of Eleanor Rosaline Holmes.

Mycroft visibly cringed at his brother's crude use of words. "It's purely platonic" he said simply and closed the door as to not wake his sister-in law. "this little arrangement was something we mutually agreed on. I have little use for this room as I hardy sleep"

"' _hardly'_ being the intended meaning here"

"Mycroft?" they both froze, Sherlock hadn't heard her voice in years, and it was a petty stab of jealousy he felt when it wasn't his name she called out, "is someone else with you?"

"No my dear, only me I was just off to bed" Mycroft replied, in a forced uplifting tone.

" _My dear?_ " Sherlock whispered harshly, "what is that supposed to mean?" His face was still a deep shade of red, his heart still hammered frantically in his chest, temple throbbing to the point he almost looked psychotic.

Mycroft turned and motioned for Sherlock to follow, half expecting him not too "nothing along the lines of what you are reading in to. Now please, let's have some order over a drink, I can explain everything clearly when we can speak freely and you are no longer looking like a beetroot. My god Sherlock you're turning practically purple"

Downstairs Sherlock shedded his coat and flumped into the chair he'd previously vacated, chin resting on his index finger as Mycroft poured him a drink.

"Neat if you don't mind"

Mycroft raised his eyebrows as he poured straight whiskey into two glasses and handed one to his brother. Sherlock gulped the amber liquid, pulled a taught expression and grunted as it burned his throat. "When I asked if I had missed anything earlier didn't you think this would have been an appropriate subject? How long has she been here and why haven't you cared to tell me such an incriminating piece of information I wonder?"

"Exactly 16 months if you want specifics, and to tell you the truth Sherlock I didn't mention it because you never asked. Not once did you ever ask about her, and she thought you was dead" now it was Mycroft's tone that was irritable.

"Oh please, don't tell me you've become fond of her. You've barely spoken two words to each other until I was out of the picture, and now you're sharing your life with her, your bed? I can even see the dinner reservation on your desk" he jerked his head toward the offending article, "don't treat me like the rest of the idiots on this planet Mycroft"

"Eleanor lives here because it was a sensible and _safe_ option. 221b Baker Street was too suffocating, too raw-"

"Pretending you understand human emotion now?" Sherlock spat

"Let me explain dear brother and don't interrupt" he gave Sherlock a warning glare, "your wife was.. quite unstable after you left, quite _unpredictable_. My home offered surveillance and.. breathing space, so to speak. The arrangement is all above bored and morally intact with _your_ obligation in Holy Matrimony, not that you've held up your end of that agreement 'to honor and protect, until death do you part' and all that"

Sherlock stood, face once again flushed not only from anger but the alcohol as well. "I obliged my vow, I did what I had to to protect her and keep her safe and you have no business taking the moral high ground and lecturing me about honor and morality, because as far as I'm aware she thinks you lost a brother as well as she lost a husband that night!" his temper had almost reached its peak, whereas the eldest Holmes remained cool and composed, something that had always irritated Sherlock even as a young child, siblings squabbling over sharing their possessions.

Mycroft remained humbly quiet for a moment, tweaking at his cuffs somewhat awkwardly. Sherlock poured himself another neat whisky and downed it in one, it burned less this time, his throat somewhat already numb from the previous couple of glasses. He poured himself another.

"What do you intend to do now? Other than drink yourself into a blind stupor?" he asked, he unfastened his top button and loosened his collar, it felt necessary.

"Oh well you know" Sherlock stammered, "what is the saying? happy wife happy life. Or something like that I don't know. Happy wife happy life happy happy happy. Only problem is you seem to be keeping the wife happy" Mycroft jumped, eyes wide as his brother slammed the glass down on his desk, once again taking note of the dinner reservation for next week. He picked it up and read in a jesting tone "Mr and Mrs Holmes, 7.45pm _ooooooh_ fancy! Tell me Mycroft does my dearly beloved keep you warm at night? Does she warm the cockles of your little cold soul?" he mocked.

"Eleanor is a resourceful woman, on certain occasions in the past she has posed as my wife for undercover government business, nothing more. That reservation is for a meeting, we were hoping to seal the deal on a rather important investment concerning the stat-"

"Spare the bullshit Mycroft!"

A moment of silence and then a quiet 'thump' and then another one. Then another. Then the hallway light clicked on and the silhouette of Eleanor Holmes was visible on the far wall.

By the time she entered the living room Sherlock was already out of sight. Mycroft hunched over his desk, he murmured a greeting as she passed him intending to get a glass of water from the kitchen, gently she touched his shoulder as she passed.

"I thought you'd gone to bed?" she said sleepily, and then her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of something familiar, "Mycroft whose coat is that?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Is that...?" she trailed off, all signs of tiredness gone, Eleanor tightened her nightgown more securely whilst waiting for Mycroft's reply. He sighed deeply,

"You better sit down" he stood and gestured to his own chair with a swift motion of his hand.

"I'll stand thankyou"

"Very well" he started and cleared his throat, "this may very well come as a shock to you so please prepare yourself for what I am about to say, I am not very good with fainting women"

"To the point if you would please" she snapped, obviously knarked. _Oh boy._

Mycroft's breath hitched in his throat, he knew this day would have to come sooner or later, he just hadn't planned on exactly when. He had felt less intimidated by terrorists than he did right now under his sister-in law's piercing gaze, he forced himself to stand up straight, resuming his signature haughty demeanor.

"Sherlock Holmes is not as you believe him to be.. He has been.. off the radar you might call it"

"Dead you mean"

He half squinted and winced, "not in so many words no"

"Well that's peculiar because not two years ago I was stood over his lifeless body on a slab in St. Bart's"

"Yes well.. even more peculiar is he's very much loitering in the kitchen, probably helping himself to the contents of my fridge"

Eleanor hesitantly chuckled, "below the belt Mycroft even for you" she walked over to the coat and picked it up carefully, it was heavy, pockets empty, shoulders and collar slightly damp. Though it felt familiar. She then frantically sniffed it and started turning the inside pockets out when there was a disruption in the kitchen.

"Sherlock if you wouldn't mind, I think you've made your presence quite known, if somewhat untimely" he added.

A figure came into view and leant against the door frame, his expression was unreadable, his loose curls framed his face just as she remembered as she took in his appearance. Sherlock did the same. His wife had aged since he last saw her, heavy bags lined the underside of her eyes and the hurt expression on her face brought out deeper than he recalled worry lines across her forhead. She had allowed her hair to somewhat grow past her shoulders, it hung limp in the loose pony tail she doned for bed. He deduced that her weight must have fluctuated over the past two years but stood before him she looked a lot smaller, her ever slender wrists were now boney and her once proud cheek bones had sunken, making her seem overall more pointy. He took in the rest of her frame with deep concentration, once an ample bosom now noticeably smaller and from what he could see of her legs under her night clothes they were more skinnier than he had ever seen them.

The clearing of Mycroft's throat broke the silence, "I will leave you two alone" he picked up his blazer and what was left of his drink and went to make a swift exit, stopping only briefly as he passed Eleanor, "please do not think ill of me my dear"

"This is not possible"

"Not probable"

"Well this was unexpected" Sherlock nodded at her night attire.

"You've got some nerve Sherlock Holmes" Eleanor rubbed a frail looking hand over her face, unsure of how to react, uptight and stony faced seemed to be the default mode she was accustomed to. "It's been two years.. What the hell has been going on, where have you been Sherlock?" she walked forward, half tempted to hit him, "two long years! You left me knowing full well what I thought had happened. You let me bury my husband, CHRIST!" she threw her arms up in exasperation and turned away from him, bile rose in her throat when she had looked at him. For the past two years she had seen him in her minds eye, heard his voice - a cruel trick of her imagination and it had taken her some time to ignore it.

"Everything I did was necessary"

"NECESSARY?" she squeaked, whirling round on him "what would have been necessary was to not let me be driven mad with grief, I mourned you. I mourned my husband and I came to peace with that"

"Eleanor-"

"Don't say my name" she cut him off, "don't you dare even.." the bile rose again, "I became accustomed to a life without you"

Sherlock tutted in mock disbelief, "yes you did. A life you continued without me but took up with my brother. Eleanor, really I thought that would have been beneath you"

"No no no you don't" Eleanor shook her head, "you don't get to play that card with me Sherlock Holmes. You lost the right to interfere in my business when you left me after your little stunt. As much as Mycroft has crossed the line with this one he has taken care of me and made sure I was safe, something you failed to do multiple times" Sherlock's face fell slightly and his shoulders slumped out of the cocky confident position he was holding. "don't pretend to be angry about something you couldn't give a damn about, you decided our marriage was nothing more to you than a convenience that ran out"

Eleanor breathed, she wasn't usually so quick to lose patience, but this was an unkind, unpredictable scenario she didn't know how to respond to.

"You still wear it" he half smiled, "that must count for something" he lightly tinkled the chain round her neck as he exited the room, causing her wedding band to jingle softly. She placed a hand over where he had just touched and felt the weight of the only piece of evidence she'd had of their marriage, like a noose pulling somewhat like a heavy burden round her throat.

"Did your brother know all this time?"

"Naturally"

"Why did you do it?"

Sherlock didn't look at her, "because I wanted to keep you safe."

 **1 year, 10 months ago.**

"What am I going to do Mycroft?" Eleanor felt weak and sickly. She kicked off her shoes and opened the liquor cabinet, an array of expensive alcohol greeted her.

"Well for a start you're going to have to cut out the liquor, medicinal purposes or not" he pointed with his umbrella.


	4. Chapter 4

The keys moved deftly under nimble fingers. It was a sharp piece, fast paced and jumpy. She'd had it brought over along with her belongings when she moved into Mycroft's home. It was one of the few things she enjoyed and had patience for, and above all it helped clear her mind, although she found the mug stains on the lid from where her husband had left multiple cups of tea and coffee, even some of his experiments on occasion - particularly annoying and distracting. She would play often at home, he had his violin, she had her piano. They regularly clashed about the other's choice of instrument.

 _"Don't you think you've abused it enough?" Sherlock shuffled over with a cup of tea in one hand, the laptop he currently had his nose buried in balanced on the other arm._

 _She shot him a sideways glance over her spectacles, "don't you have some sort of string instrument to murder or something? Oh wait Mrs Hudson claimed the racket gave her migraines and took it to exile" Eleanor smiled at him, her hands seemingly knowing exactly where to go despite not looking at them._

Mentally shaking away the memory she tried to focus on a particularly hard part when her concentration was broke by an unwelcome voice.

"It's been a while since I've heard you play"

"It helps me think" she replied, hands still flying along the keys.

"You've improved" Sherlock attempted to joke.

"I've had a lot of time to practise" Eleanor didn't look up at him. She was pissy at Sherlock and pissy at Mycroft. Neither of them had entertained taking her feelings in to consideration. She'd lived with Mycroft for practically two years and he hadn't given so much as a hint. How he had pretended to mourn the loss of his brother, no matter how cardboard regarding feelings he made out to be, he had played along with somewhat expressing emotions of remorse. He had been there on more than one occasion through emotional and even physical turmoil. Mycroft had been a crutch that had supported her through the darkest of times, all the while he had known her suffering could have been eased, yet he stood by and let it unfold anyway.

She had since lost almost all contact with John and even Mrs Hudson, the latter of which persisted in sending Christmas and Birthday cards making it difficult to forget of her past life at Baker Street. It's not that she wasn't fond of her former landlady or John, its just that she'd only ever met them through connections via Sherlock, his flat, his best friend and the majority of conversation only ever led to the painful reminder of her deceased spouse. Mycroft on the other hand was reluctant to mention his younger brother, now she understood why and a pang of anger caused her to miss a note. She slammed the lid shut.

Sherlock glanced up from his newspaper, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Oh shut up" she hissed.

"I didn't say anything" he quipped, watching his estranged wife reach for cigarette and lighter. She breathed in harshly and exhaled a puff of smoke, he tried not to stare too obviously at the 'O' shape her lips were making.

"What are you doing here Sherlock?"

"Attempting to catch up on the days events in Mycroft's newspaper, what are you doing here?" he snapped the paper shut and tossed it on the coffee table.

Eleanor huffed an impatient sigh.

"I mean here here. You know what I meant"

"Do I need a reason to be in my brother's home?"

"You do yes, don't play on brotherly love, you're not one for sentiment it doesn't suit you"

"Widow life doesn't seem to suit you"

"Don't skate round the subject"

"You look terrible"

"Charming as ever" Eleanor rolled her eyes. _Tactless._

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked, noting the tinge of purple under her eyes, biting back the comment that she looked like a gone off fruit that was loosing its ripeness.

"Oh let's see.. Probably before we met" she half joked.

 _Eleanor exhaled heavily and turned her eyebrows inward. "Here are the keys to the office. On the desk are my afternoon meds. Please find them and make sure you don't mix them up when you bring them back, I don't fancy being drugged with whatever you're cooking up in that slimy petri dish in the kitchen. I need to make an errand"_

 _"Roger that Sarge'" he said with a mock salute._

 _Eleanor gave him a stare that let him know she had very little confidence in his ability to complete a simple task without ballsing it up, while also warning him that ballsing it up was not an option._

 _"Just pills on the desk"_

 _"Desk. Pills. Don't mix with experiments. Don't drug wife. Got it you can go now" he shooed his hands_

 _"Oh and there's a voicemail left for you I didn't catch a name, something about owing you a fall or something strange like that, I couldn't make it out the line must be crackly" she said as she pushed herself off the doorframe and headed for the landing, not realising Sherlock's shift in body language "don't forget my pills or you'll have to deal with a nocturnal wife all night!"_

The memory fizzled when Sherlock spoke again, "I said are you still taking prescription Temazepam?"

Eleanor took a second for her brain to catch up to present, "yes, I am, not that it's relevant"

"Well I think a change in prescription is in order, I'll text John and tell him a higher dosage is necessary, he is still a Doctor isn't he? Oh I don't know he might have moved surgery to be with that Sarah something. That is what people do isn't it, they move places when they start relationships, so predictable. Maybe he can get his hands on some Triazolam or Zaleplon ought to do the trick. Do I even have his number anymore" he scrolled through the contacts in his phone, "I haven't spoken to him since, well the rooftop of St. Bart's, you should have seen his...face" he finished in nervous laughter at the look of pure hurt and anger on his wife's face. John's long since been said words of 'not good' echoed in his mind.

"John is with Mary now, and not my doctor anymore" she angrily stabbed the cigarette in a nearby ashtray, "it's disgusting you haven't told him yet" she spun round on the stool and flipped the lid of the piano open, about to start furiously bashing the keys to a melody, signalling the end of her patience with the conversation.

Sherlock left the room muttering, "what's disgusting is your hightened need for nicotine as substitute for sleep" He went outside to hail a cab to break the news to John, Eleanor glanced out the window and saw him pull out his own cigarette to light up as he went. Filthy hypocrite.

It was less than two hours before he returned, a tissue held against his bloody nose. "I could have guessed as much" Eleanor handed him a pot towel to stem the flow. She was just in the middle of cooking tea when Sherlock came in, "and don't get blood all over my kitchen"

"It's Mycroft's kitchen"

She rolled her eyes. "Sort yourself out before your brother comes home"

"What's for tea?"

"My tea, get your own, and pie"

Sherlock watched as she leant forward to check the oven, his vision was a little blurry but he could still appreciate her skirt pulling a little tighter over her backside and she bent. He wondered if Mycroft had took such pleasures in having her around. The smell of home made pie filled the air. He was starving.

"Another few minutes yet" she turned to face him, her kitchen apron was covered in flour, hair mussed from the hot steam. "for god sake Sherlock you're supposed to use that to stop the bleeding" she snatched the pot towel off him and went to the fridge to get some ice.

Sherlock was quiet. John hadn't given him the reaction he thought he would, surprising considering its what he prided himself in, being able to predict people's reactions in favor of himself. His face stung and he felt a clot slide inside his nose. Eleanor returned with the pot towel clad in ice and held it out to him, he instinctively went to grab her wrist instead and pulled it to his throbbing nose. Eleanor sighed.

"Keep still then"

Sherlock remained uncharacteristically still whilst she gently prodded at the gnarled flesh, his eyes watching her face carefully. This was the closest they'd been since he left, in fact this was the first time they had touched.

"I take it John was displeased"

"What gave it away?" he said quietly.

Eleanor didn't smile. "It looks like he caught your eye too. You'll have a shiner in the morning. Can't say you didn't deserve it"

Sherlock blinked and pulled a face, his eyes watery from the irritation, "ouch woman! You're supposed to be helping not contributing"

"Stop twitching then" She instinctively moved forward to get a closer look, her middle brushed against Sherlock's arm, unknowingly covering the top of his coat in flour.

She ignored the profanities he hissed as she poked and prodded at his face until he looked considerably more tidy.

She pulled away slightly, "just try not to mess with it and have it serve you a lesson"

They suddenly both jumped when Mycroft walked into his kitchen, catching them both bit off guard, "Eleanor why do I smell burning?"

"Bollocks!" She rushed over to the now slightly smokey oven, missing the disapproving stare Mycroft shot at his brother.

"Have I missed something? What on earth happened to your face?"

"John Watson happened" Sherlock grumbled.

"Ahh I see" he said, he waited for Eleanor to finish fussing over the stove and leave the room. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything" he nodded at Sherlock's flour covered sleeve with raised brows.

 **AN/ Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed/favourited/alerted this story so far, it's a big motivation! I aim to update every day/every other day.**


	5. Chapter 5

The first time she met John had been an awkward affair. She'd just flown in from a long haul flight visiting family in Australia. She trudged up the stairs lugging her heavy suitcase behind her, it had been a nightmare getting back from the airport, the heavy snow had caused transport to be in short supply, not to mention the overall delay on the roads. Sherlock could have at least got Mycroft to arrange for a car on short notice to pick her up from the tube station.

She kicked the door open and dragged her luggage in, Sherlock was sat by the window in his silk addressing gown over his suit, tapping away on the laptop furiously. She stared at him in annoyance waiting for him to acknowledge her presence.

"I'm home" she waved her arm in his general line of sight.

"Ah yes hello" still tapping "one..." tap tap tap "second.." tap tap

"Have you even recognised my absence in the two and a half weeks I've been away?" she asked, pulling off her gloves and scarf, she wasn't really surprised but a greeting may have been nice, "Sherlock?"

"Yes I'm aware" he got up, made his way over and put on a fake smile and overly exaggerated voice of enthusiasm "Hello darling it's lovely to see you, how was Canada?"

"I've been in Australia"

"That's what I meant" he dropped the false cheery demeanour and lightly pecked a kiss on her cheek as he passed to the kitchen.

"It's tidier in here than I expected, you really shouldn't let Mrs Hudson do all the work"

"Who says it was Mrs Hudson?"

"Well it certainly wasn't you, you'd be content in a pig-stye as long as it had wifi" Eleanor removed her coat and hung it over the arm chair, noticing a walking cane perched against the arm.

Just then a stranger appeared from the bathroom, "Hello" he said, extending his hand to shake hers, "I'm John Watson, the one responsible for the immaculate living conditions" he added and smiled brightly at her, not quite understanding the look of confusion on her face.

"I wouldn't say immaculate" Sherlock called from the kitchen.

Eleanor shook his hand, "Hello, I'm Eleanor Holmes. Pleased to meet you John Watson. Are you a friend of Sherlock's?"

"Ahhh," John made an awkward noise in his throat, "you didn't tell her about me did you Sherlock?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that I'm rather surprised he mentioned me at all. 7 years of marriage doesn't seem to have influenced him very much"

Sherlock flounced in with a mug off coffee and almost shoved it in his wife's hands, "Wife, flatmate. Flatmate, wife"

"We have a flat mate now?" Eleanor asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at him over her coffee cup.

"I am so sorry," John said giving her an apologetic look, "I assumed you would have known. I can imagine this being a bit of an inconvenience. I only found out about you a few days ago, I wondered why there were so many different products in the bathroom. Sherlock why didn't you ask first?"

"I never ask first, that's boring"

"Oh don't panic John, I'm used to his flippant decision making, although the heads up would have been nice on this occasion. I feel rather embarrassed now, you probably think I'm rude" Eleanor sank into the sofa, relishing the steaming hot cup of coffee warming her frozen hands.

"Not at all. Not after living with him" he nodded at Sherlock and they both laughed.

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, "did you have a nice time?"

"It was a funeral dear, how do you think it went"

"Oh no" John piped up, "he didn't mention a funeral, he just said you were visiting family"

"My father" Eleanor said, and John shot Sherlock an annoyed look for not fore telling him.

"Well I'm sorry to hear that"

"Don't be, he was an insufferable arse"

John shrugged and sat at the opposite end of the sofa, "Sherlock why didn't you go?"

"Working" he didn't look up from the laptop. _Bloody lovely isn't he_ John thought to himself. Just then something caught Eleanor's eye and she jumped up,

"Sherlock what on earth have you done to my piano, it's got goo and god knows what else all over it!"

"Oh so it's yours?" John asked, "It's beautiful" and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John was a lot different back then. He'd seen so much of the world already and yet there was a different side of it he hadn't seen until he met Sherlock.

Presently he looked as worse for wear as Eleanor felt. His hair had greyed at the temples, dark lines had gotten deeper round his eyes and mouth, or what could be seen of his mouth under his new moustache (also flecked with grey) he held himself more stiffly now, more ridged. It was hard to work out if the tremor in his hand had returned or if he was still white hot livid from before.

The awkward tension was somewhat elevated by Mary, who properly introduced herself to Eleanor. "You must be Mrs Holmes, I've heard a lot about you"

"Ah yes hello dear, please call me Eleanor" they shook hands, "it's nice to finally meet properly, I believe congratulations are in order" she nodded at the sparkly engagement ring on Mary's outstretched hand.

"Yes it is, shame about the circumstances though" Mary subtly indicated at the two men in the room currently staring each other out.

"Perhaps you'd like a drink? Come on I'm sure Mycroft has something stupidly expensive in the cellar. We can leave these two alone for a while, I feel it's going to be a long night"

The two women left the room, leaving Sherlock and John alone for the first time. Sherlock's eye was still tinged purple and his face swollen in various places.

Sherlock was first to try and lighten the atmosphere, "quite a number you did on me there"

"I find it quite an improvement" John said, no hint of humor in his voice, "pity I didn't get the other eye"

"Now John that really is quite uncalled for"

"Two years!" he burst, his top lip trembling causing his moustache to twitch in a way Sherlock found most comical. "Two years, Sherlock!"

Sherlock remained silent as John started to pace the room. They could hear the women clucking away in the kitchen. John finally decided to station himself in a spot by the desk. "What did your wife say after your little magic act?"

"She reacted as expected, although I thought she may have been the one to break my nose. Your reaction was slightly different than I anticipated" he reached for the whiskey his brother kept on display, filling up two glasses as he spoke, "however I don't much care for her living arrangements"

"Yea, I heard she left Baker Street. Can't say I blame her" his piercing gaze would have been slightly unnerving, if it wasn't for that hilarious moustache.

In the kitchen Mary and Eleanor were both sat, cigarette in hand, bottle of wine between them.

"Do you think John will forgive him?" Eleanor topped up Mary's glass.

"I don't know.. Did you?"

"No" she admitted, taking a long drag of her cigarette, "but it's difficult, there's no living without him"

"I don't suppose there's much living with him either" Mary said and the other woman chuckled.

"Too true"

A loud bang followed by raised voices made them sit up a little straighter.

"Where's Mycroft? This is his house isn't it?"

"Ah yes the elder Mr Holmes. He's rarely here now a days, but he should be due back any time now, he spends days at a time being out on 'government business'. Saying that I really do hope those two keep the mess to a minimal in there, Mycroft's a bit of neat enthusiast"

"Murder to live with?" Mary asked, breathing out a puff of thick smoke as she put out her cig.

"Surprisingly no, in some aspects he's easier to live with than Sherlock. He's been very kind to me over the past two years" she admitted.

John burst into the room, "Come on Mary we're leaving, it was nice to see you Eleanor, please excuse the mess in the other room. I'd let Sherlock clean it up if I were you"

"I'll leave him to it, it was nice to see you again too - the moustache ages you" John made an aggravated noise and stomped out the room, "it was a pleasure to meet you Mary"

"And you. Hopefully we can be in contact again in better circumstances"

"Indeed" Eleanor smiled as they left. She liked Mary, they were well suited. John had done well there.

She decided to leave Sherlock to his own devices and stick to her own domain, she liked spending time in the kitchen. She was partway through baking a cheesecake, sounds of Sherlock's tantrum long since eradicated when Mycroft entered the room.

"Good evening" he said and she tilted her head to acknowledge him, not quite the genuine smile she usually greeted him with but it would have to do. "My favourite dessert, intentional meaning or happy coincidence?"

"Neither" she said dryly and batted his hands away when they got too close to her masterpiece, "it's not set yet stop interfering"

Mycroft lowered himself into one of the kitchen stools and loosened his collar, "have you thought anymore about what I said previously?"

Eleanor untied her apron and hung in on one of the counter handles, "yes, and I don't think it's a sensible idea, things are too much up in the air at the moment"

 **1 year, 6 months ago.**

"I can't decide, what do you think Mycroft? Eleanor huffed as she flicked through the catalogue for the umpteenth time. She'd been indecisive about the shade for weeks.

"Why don't you just go with white, it's a very neutral colour" he suggested for what felt like the nine hundred and ninetieth time.

"Neutral is boring"


	6. Chapter 6

Eleanor scrubbed her skin till it was raw, she'd ran the bath so hot it was painful and tears mixed with sweat on her shiny red face.

The images wouldn't leave her mind, when she closed her eyes she could still see it, as though it was permanently preserved - burnt into the inside of her eyelids.

They'd been home roughly an hour, Mycroft hadn't said anything. She'd wondered upstairs after the silent journey back from the hospital and locked herself in the bathroom. Her body still displayed evidence of the ordeal and she hated it, she despised every bit of it.

She cupped her hands and scooped up the near scalding water onto her face, paying no head to the burn. It almost felt soothing. Almost.

There was a knock at the door.

"Just a minute" Eleanor called from the bathtub. That memory always resurfaced whenever she took a bath.

She picked up a fluffy white towel off the radiator and wrapped it securely round herself, upon exiting the bathroom she had quite a scare to find Sherlock Holmes stood in her now bedroom.

"Oh" she squeaked, keeping a tight hold of the top of the towel, "Sherlock I am not dressed"

Sherlock stared at her for a second, not quite sure what he had done wrong to warrant such a sheepish tone. Then he remembered, they were married yes, but not at a point of shared privacy they had once been.

"Ah, right, I see yes" he stammered, "I'll uh, come back later"

"It's quite alright" she said walking over to the wardrobe, "you just gave me a shock is all, I wasn't expecting you to be in here"

Sherlock watched as she fumbled in the wardrobe and pulled out a white blouse and trouser combination for morning. Her hair was clipped up in a twist, but the humidity of the bath had caused her tendrils to curl and the heat had given her a tinged pink glow. They hadn't really been alone too much over the past few weeks and things still seemed to be a little tense between them. Most times when he entered a room she would make an excuse to leave, conversation was limited and she seemed to spend more time with Mycroft than she did with him. He wondered if she had started to despise his company.

"Can I help you?" Eleanor had disappeared into the walk in closet and come out again wearing her nightie and silk dressing gown, she hung up her work clothes for tomorrow on the door.

"I was just err looking for something" Sherlock said somewhat awkwardly, not really sure how to say what he meant without sounding intrusive.

"Snooping you mean"

Eleanor folded her arms and Sherlock had to look away. Distracting himself with the very boring but suddenly very interesting bedside lamp. He'd not seen her in less than what she was currently wearing in over two years, and he was conscious that if he looked too long he would feel that familiar stirring in his groin - and that would be embarrassing.

"What are you noseying for Sherlock? And maybe telling the truth and not snippets of it would be a good place to start"

"Why is the fourth door on the landing locked?" he said flippantly and Eleanor's expression quickly changed. She hadn't expected that.

"It's always been like that" she tried to seem coherent, "it was that way when I came here"

"It's wasn't locked the night I found you in Mycroft's bed, I glanced in every room, it was open"

"Well I don't know then, why don't you ask him?"

"You know I can smell a lie as soon as I hear it"

"Well obviously your clever lie detecting skills and faltering. I don't know what's in that room, it's your brother's house not mine. I don't have any business knowing what he'd rather keep private"

"I didn't ask what was in there, I asked why it was locked" Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her and she mentally scolded herself for the sloppy slip up.

"Look Sherlock, it's very late and I have work in the morning, unlike some-"

"Just tell me what you're so obviously hiding in there and I'll leave you alone" he added a fake smile, "promise"

"I don't know what's in that bedroom Sherlock it's not my house!"

"Ah so you know it's a bedroom then? I mean it could be anything, closet, laundry room, attic"

"Now you're just clutching at straws dear"

Sherlock sighed impatiently, _bloody woman._

"Right" he clapped his hands together, "I'll be off home, doesn't seem to be anything left here to do"

"There's never anything here for you to do, all you do is mooch off Mycroft's food, ruin his newspapers and nick his cigars"

"Noted. Goodnight Eleanor"

"Goodnight"

Sherlock found a lock pick in one of Mycroft's drawers in his desk, he had intended on finding the key he knew was hidden most likely in his wife's room to save time, but as he would have no such time to look until she left for work he decided breaking in would have to suffice.

The lock was tricky, signs Mycroft had clearly meddled with it upon his arrival were evident. He had to be quiet too, with Eleanor probably not yet asleep in the other room it was a risky procedure. It took a few minutes but the lock eventually clicked and he was able to push it open, mindful of any creaks and squeaks the door might make as he did.

It was dark, as it had been on the first night the door had been open but he had paid no head, it was only since the door had remained locked that his curiosity had been stirred.

He ran his hands along the wall searching for a light switch and a soft glow lit up the room. Nothing majorly interesting at first sight. The walls were powder blue and the carpet looked new, but it hadn't been recently laid, no one had walked on it to flatten the plushness. Sheer short length curtains framed the large also freshly painted window, which would still allow as much natural light in as possible without the harsh glare. There were boxes upon boxes stacked up in the far corner and his curiosity was heightened even further at the one labelled 'Documents'

He gave a quick glance behind him and edged closer, what could permit so many hidden boxes in a room that had been given such extra measures to be kept off limits?"

He slid off the lid and peered inside, what he saw made his breath hitch. Enclosed in a sheer plastic wallet was a death certificate and that's as far as he got before he heard a soft voice on the landing.

"Eleanor what have I told you, you mustn't dwell in this room, especially late at.. night" the last word died on his lips when he saw it wasn't infact Eleanor in the room as he had expected like so many nights before.

"What is this?" Sherlock demanded, his voice strangled in his throat.

"Get out" was the reply.

Sherlock continued to stare blankly at the paper, "don't you so much as read another word Sherlock Holmes, you must leave this instant"

 **1 year, 7 months ago.**

"Are you sure you don't want decorators in, I feel the unnecessary strain is unadvised in your condition"

"Oh nonsense Mycroft!" Eleanor smiled brightly, powder blue paint speckled all over her overalls and flushed face, she took her spectacles off to wipe the paint from her lenses, "besides it's nearly done. Only took me a few hours, we just need the carpet fitted and we're all good to go"

Mycroft smiled, "very well, I'll just get changed and help finish off, you've missed a bit"

"Sod off" she chuckled and went to carry on, her overly large stomach made it difficult to stretch, perhaps Mycroft lending a hand would help to reach those higher places.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Trigger warning.**_

 **1 year, 8 months ago.**

A high pitched scream echoed through the wing, followed by ragged breathing. Eleanor Holmes was getting too tired.

Her face was flushed, forehead shiny from sweat, hair messy and beaded with perspiration, she squirmed uncomfortably and let out another piercing shriek. Mycroft was sure three of his fingers were broke.

She had been playing piano when it happened, it started with an uncomfortable twinge of pain she thought nothing off, discomfort in third trimester was expected. Gradually over the next hour or so the pain became agonizing and harder to ignore until eventually she doubled over with a loud shriek. She knew something was wrong, she hadn't felt him move properly in days, the midwife said he was likely settling, ready for birth. Suddenly she couldn't breathe. Her stomach was contracting painfully at an alarming rate and her arms desperately clung at her bump protectively, as if trying to hold it there. Mycroft of course had come running the moment he heard her scream, eyes wide and fearful upon seeing his sister in-law in such a state.

They had got to the hospital within minutes before her waters broke. "It's too soon Mycroft! Do SOMETHING!" another screech, her face twisted in discomfort as crippling pain shot through her body once again. Her cheeks were red and blotchy from crying in agony, and sadness from the dawning realisation of what was happening. All he could do was simply be. There was nothing to be done, Eleanor's waters had broken over a month too early.

He hushed her shushed her and tried to sooth her but he knew this was beyond any repair. Another contraction hit and Mycroft gritted his teeth, another finger probably broke.

She'd begged the nurses to make it stop, and when they said they couldn't she then begged Mycroft. He was at a terrible loss, one of the most powerful men in the world and he was utterly useless. He stayed by her side with a heavy heart, encouraging her the best he could but he knew the efforts were futile. He felt guilty for not being able to help her.

Eleanor screamed again, her head felt dizzy and her vision was starting to blur, all she was aware of was the agony rippling through her body at shorter and shorter intervals and Mycroft's hand clutching hers.

"Please please please" she murmured, withering around on the bed. Nothing was comfortable just minute after minute of torture.

"Is there nothing we can do? Surely there must be something?" Mycroft snapped at the nurse.

She glanced at Eleanor whimpering on the bed with her eyes screwed shut, mindful of what she might hear, "I'm afraid not Mr Holmes" she said quietly, "Mrs Holmes is in the last stage of labour now. There was no way we could have stopped her dilating. Unfortunately sometimes these things do happen"

"I know that" he said through gritted teeth, he had long since accepted the reality of the situation, "I was thinking something to ease the pain"

"Eleanor is too far gone for pain relief, by the time it starts to work it will be over"

"She's getting too tired, she's exhausted look at her!" Mycroft angrily said, trying hard for Eleanor's sake to keep his temper with this seemingly robotic nurse.

"She won't be much longer now" she promised. And it wasn't. With a final excruciating push Eleanor gave birth to her son. She frantically attempted to sit up, desperately listening for a cry, a whimper or anything. Silence.

The nurses quickly rushed to station, doing everything they could to try and get his tiny body to work. Mycroft was not a religious man, but he desperately prayed in his mind for a miracle. Almost a minute had passed. "He's not breathing Mycroft" she yelped, "Why isn't he breathing what did I do wrong?" her eyes remained fixated on what she could see of her infant's unresponsive body. The nurses and doctors were rapidly talking to each other in technical terms she couldn't keep up with. Next to her Mycroft had moved closer, one had still holding hers, his other arm was wrapped round her shoulder, the weight of her exhausted body leant against him.

The nurse from before turned to them with an apologetic expression, "I'm so very sorry Mrs Holmes"

Eleanor screamed, Mycroft was unable to console her. Her voice went hoarse after a while. Her heart was cracked in two.

 **Present.**

"You were pregnant"

"Yes I was" she replied sadly. "I didn't know until after your death"

Sherlock couldn't process the information. He had so many questions whirring in his brain, why hadn't she told him was at the front of the que. Mycroft reluctantly had to tell him what had happened after he found the death certificate. _It was a bloody and horrific mess,_ he had said. Eleanor perched on the windowsill and shakily put a cigarette in her mouth, "Before you criticize I know I should have told you it's just difficult to put into words. You were gone for so long and when you came back" she looked down somewhat shamefully. "I honestly wanted to tell you, I _should_ have told you" she corrected herself, "when you came back it was such a shock and the longer I left it the harder it got to say the truth"

Sherlock was leant forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and staring at the carpet, he couldn't look at her.

"A son Eleanor, MY son" his voice was low and dangerous, "I had a RIGHT to be aware at the very least"

"William" she said softly, "his name is William"

Sherlock felt a pang of disgust at himself, he remained silent for a moment, remembering how his stomach had dropped when he read the name on the death documentation. "and presumably my brother, he was going to play the role of his father was he?"

"It wasn't like that Sherlock and I think you know that, you're just looking for opportunities to lash out. Mycroft has been more supportive than I could ever have hoped for, and you should be grateful there was someone to take care of us whilst you were pretending to be dead, avoiding your responsibilities - albeit somewhat obliviously"

"Mycroft knew I was alive and didn't think it convenient to tell me"

Eleanor sighed, that was true, "I didn't say he was a saint dear, I can't comprehend how either of you think sometimes, I'm sure he had his reasons as you did, I can't speak for him and give you answers as to why, it seems he was spinning us both a line to conceal truth regarding us both to each other"

"Why didn't you tell me when I arrived here that night, why did I have to find out accidentally CHRIST Eleanor" he stood and threw the tumbler of whiskey he had been holding at the wall and shards of glass rained over the carpet, staining the clean walls with the amber tint of liquor. Eleanor flinched, it had been a long time since she had seen his temperamental nature flare so much.

"I know you're angry, you have every reason to be, I don't begrudge you that, and I understand how this must seem but you have to try and look at it from my perspective Sherlock" she searched his face for any sign of understanding, any flicker of empathy but he was raw with frustration.

He leant his head against his forearm on the wall, he breathed heavily and grunted, his voice shook when he spoke, "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"Of course!" she too stood up, her voice was starting to betray her composure, "I prayed every night hoping that you would hear me, telling you he was safe, that you hadn't left me quite so alone and that we were going to have a son, I drove myself insane thinking about how it was supposed to be, at one point Mycroft had considered having me admitted. I didn't ask for this Sherlock, if you wanted to leave on a clean slate you should have thought it through before getting your leg over that last time"

Sherlock's shoulders visibly relaxed and he rubbed a hand over his face. The woman was mess, by his doing in more ways than one. The usually pristine and neat woman he had took as his wife was now a hard shell, life seemed to have been raked out of her.

"You've missed so much Sherlock" her voice was quiet but firm, "you should have seen him, he was beautiful even as a sleeping angel. It was not my fault you weren't there"

The anger he felt from earlier had fizzled into deep regret, he walked forwards until he could pull her towards him, cupping her head into his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head. She gratefully accepted the embrace, careful not to sully his blazer with her cigarette as she slinked her arms round to his shoulders. "I am deeply sorry" he mumbled sincerely into her hair, "and not just for losing my temper, for everything. If I could have done things differently I would have"

She pulled away slightly, reluctant to let go but still somewhat uncomfortable at their proximity, "me too" she admitted, "I keep thinking and thinking if there was something I did wrong for him to die, he was so innocent and so small. Perhaps if I had taken better care of myself or, I don't know I was selfish"

"How so?"

"It's embarrassing to admit but I didn't pay much heed to the life growing inside me, not at first at least. I smoke and drank through most of the first trimester, antenatal classes were a chore, I don't think I was fit for such a blessing. If your brother wasn't so supportive I'm not sure I could have.. in the beginning the thought of waking up to a constant reminder of you everyday seemed unbearable, torturous in some regards. Like I said I was selfish to begin with, maybe it was my punishment"

Sherlock didn't know how to respond, usually the first thing that comes to his mind isn't the most helpful thing to say but he seemed to find some un-blunt words, "you mustn't blame yourself Eleanor" he said softly, "what happened was not a punishment, more a cruel display of nature" he assured her, "William's death was no consequence for what you feel you did wrong. He was a blessing and you are only human. I am quite proud of you"

Eleanor didn't sleep much that night, the conversation with Sherlock had exposed a lot of deeply rooted emotions. She got up and slipped on her night gown over her nightie with the intention of getting a very late night cap. She padded barefoot into the living quarters, her husband was sat with his legs stretched out, ankles crossed, glass of something that smelt strong in one hand, cigarette in the other. He was staring blankly into the dying fire in the hearth, it crackled and popped warmly.

"I didn't think you'd have stayed" she said, lowering herself beside him. He exhaled a thick puff of smoke before handing her the cigarette.

"Baker street isn't as inviting as it used to be" his voice was croaky from exhaustion and the burn of liquor, "do you think you will ever return home, to our marital home?" he glanced up at the ceiling with red rimmed eyes, "of course not, here is your home now"

Eleanor didn't speak, she wasn't sure if the jibe was intentional or not. She had tried not to think too much ahead to the future after Sherlock had returned. She picked up the Bourbon off the floor and poured some into his glass, sipping it slowly and ignoring his question. "Tell me why you left, in your own words I want to hear it"

It was 8.35am when Mycroft strolled through his front door, the stench of alcohol and smoke wafted through the hallway. His feet crunched on broken glass and he regarded the mess from the previous night. In the living room Sherlock was in the same position he had been before, only his chin rested on his hand and he was in a peaceful slumber. Eleanor was beside him, her head had fallen to rest on his shoulder after she too had nodded off, her hand must have instinctively gone to reach for him during the night as it was hovering centimetres from his own on his lap.

Mycroft cleared his throat quietly to see if either of them would stir and Sherlock twitched, suddenly awake which then caused Eleanor to jump. They both stared up at Mycroft with dazed post sleep expressions.

He shrugged up his sleeve to look at his watch, "It is gone half past eight in the morning, you my dear are late for work. And what in god's name have you done to my wall Sherlock?"


	8. Chapter 8

Eleanor plonked the shopping down on the counter a little more forceful than was necessary. Mycroft merely glanced up from his paper with raised eyebrows. She bustled about the kitchen slamming cupboards and drawers, she hadn't uttered a word of acknowledgment or greeting to him. It was when she haphazardly threw on her apron and tied the fastenings in a harsh knot under her bust that he decided he was going to speak first.

"Something the matter?" he said in a false uplifting tone, "I'd say by the aggression you're whisking that egg you're either angry at the egg or angry at me and I doubt the egg did anything wrong"

She whirled round on him, "you are insufferable do you know that Mycroft Holmes?" she pointed the whisk at him, slopping yolk over the floor.

"Oh heavens pray tell what did I do now?"

"James Moriarty, Mycroft"

"Ah"

"Yes 'ah' you great idiot. Sherlock could have been killed and I mean genuinely, we all could have been killed!"

"I take it last night was a revelation then" he flicked another page in his paper.

"What on earth were you thinking, honestly Mycroft, the pair of you, I could strangle you both sometimes. Stubborn and secretive is what you both are"

"Oh come now, we can't be that bad you married one of us" he drawled which seemed to infuriate her further.

"How many secrets must there be in this family? How many lies and half truths have to be buried only to resurface later?"

"That's rather rich coming from you dear"

"Don't patronise me" she said dangerously, "and put that bloody paper down" He did and let out a long breath, preparing himself for the hell that was sure to unleash, admittedly rather deserved.

"I had my reasons for keeping certain things from you as you did with my brother, although I did tell you soon after his arrival that he should know about William"

Eleanor tried not to flinch at the use of him name, Mycroft now realising his insensitively stood up wearily, "I would have liked to have unburdened you with that but it was not my place. He was his father and you his mother, I have no grounds for exposing truths when you were not ready. As for Moriarty, I'm sure Sherlock explained the severity of the situation, for any of you to have known, or had so much as an inkling then the plan would have failed. I'll admit it was not easy for me to lie to you, even more so after you found you were pregnant with his child. In hind sight that was more reason for you not to know, as cruel as it sounds, it was for your own safety and the safety of the child. The same reasoning applies as to why Sherlock could not know of his existence either, where there is love there is weakness. I did not want to jeopardize the safety of either of you, you were in my protection and I was responsible for you both"

"At what cost though?" she said defeated, "you are in retrospective the British government, there must have been some other way"

"Believe me my dear, it was the only way" She turned and continued with dessert, and the harsh beating of the poor egg. John and Mary were coming for dinner later and she wanted to make a start. Things between her husband and the doctor had been most spiky since the return. She was all in all surprised everyone had agreed, she suspected Mary had persuaded John much in the same way she had to convince Sherlock.

The table was set, dinner prepared, Eleanor had doned a fresh blouse and trouser combination and freshened up. 8pm came around quicker than Sherlock cared for "why am I being subjected to this again?"

"It appears your wife is trying to make amends between the relationship of you and your former friend" Mycroft said, adjusting his silver cuff links.

"Pointless. John Watson has made it perfectly clear where his associations lie and I for one don't see the need to persue the issue any further"

"I don't much care either for the situation, I myself don't find social gatherings of this or any other kind to be my forte" Sherlock scoffed, that much was true. Mycroft not unlike himself had always shyed away from such events. But in difference Mycroft would always find an excuse not to attend, namely his work. Whereas Sherlock would be more forward in his decline of invitation. Christmas' were a chore, family events were to be tolerated, even his wedding was by his own instruction a small affair.

"Try at least, if not for your own interests then for the sake of hers. Speaking of where is my sister in-law?" Mycroft looked at his watch, it was getting close to nine minutes past eight and Eleanor was never tardy.

"I believe the now lady of the house is rummaging through your liquor stores, naturally" he mocked.

"I should be charging her commission with the way she's bled those cellars dry as of late" he said lightly.

"I'm sure the promise of home baked desserts and her rather good use of culinary skills were an excellent substitute in exchange for commission" Sherlock jibed, obviously still narked about the living arrangements.

"Now now dear brother no snide comments or slander remarks tonight, you are being hosted in my home. I expect your best behavior" he added, giving Sherlock a warning look as he did.

The door bell rang and Eleanor greeted the Watson's with a polite kiss to the cheek and a warm embrace but each seemed to have their minds preoccupied with something else. Things started off rather smoothly for the grand total of five minutes. The tension between the former friends was still thick with dispute and the light atmosphere rapidly declined. Every other word between them seemed to ooze venom.

"So" John interlocked his fingers on top of the table, "how is life back with the living?"

"Quite tedious. How is life with that stick stuck up you're a-"

"Sherlock!" Eleanor rubbed her temple impatiently, "you'll have to excuse him John, it seems he is adamant on ruining this evening for everyone"

"That's quite alright Eleanor, I know how he gets" he gave her a small smile, "you know I'm surprised you haven't returned to Baker Street yourself yet" John said supping his wine.

"All in good time" the subject of her current lodgings was one she rarely encouraged to discuss, "I haven't set foot in Baker Street in near on 3 years, I find it more surprising Mrs Hudson hasn't seen fit to let out again"

"How is Mrs Hudson by the way? I haven't spoken to her myself in nearly that time"

"Wondering why her favourite Doctor hasn't so much as bothered to pick up the phone no doubt" Sherlock downed his glass and clumsily stood up to pour another, ignoring his brother's disapproving glare.

"How is work Eleanor? You work for a law firm don't you?" Mary tried the change the topic, sensing an uplift in tension was necessary, "John told me you were promoted to head of office"

"Head of office? You didn't tell me anything?" Sherlock rounded on his wife.

"That's because you've never asked" she cut him off and took another gulp of wine, realising this was going to be a long night. The air was heavy with a thorny atmosphere and ever since the evening began every conservation had been left open with a raw taste of unpleasantness.

"I think a top up would help to calm the unease don't you, Mary why don't you let me" Mycroft went to fill Mary's glass with some wine when she quickly placed her hand over the top of her glass.

"None for me thankyou" she blurted, "I have a very early start tomorrow I'd like to keep a clear head"

"Oh nonsense come now Mary one glass won't hurt, I too have to be up before dawn I don't let it stop me" Eleanor joked, her face flushed already from early onset intoxication.

"Quite right, I'm surprised she can function most mornings without aspirin as of recently. It appears she's over done it on the cooking sherry whilst preparing dinner tonight"

" _Sherlock_ " Mycroft gritted, "remember where you are"

"Well" he waved in her general direction, "I'm just being honest. Honesty appears to be something we are all lacking, isn't that right _dear_ "

"Sherlock you are behaving like a pig, stop it. You are embarrassing yourself and everyone around you. This is not the time nor the place. Mary I think we have something a little less strong if you prefer, I could make you a soft cocktail?"

"The woman doesn't want anything to drink for crying it loud _sit down_ Eleanor" Sherlock hissed and slammed his glass down, causing the whole table to stare at him with wide eyes. Mycroft's own anger had started to bubble at his brother's lack of table manners and overall presentation of himself in front of guests, his voice came out as an almost growl.

"Sherlock that is no way to speak to your wife, have the moral decency will you and stop acting like a petulant, whiny, immature pri-"

"Mary is pregnant"

"John!" she hissed, mortified, "we agreed we weren't going to tell anyone until 12 weeks!"

Eleanor's false cheery demeanor she had preserved all night faltered ever so slightly, and she felt the eyes of both Holmes brothers on her cautiously. "Congratulations the both of you! I'm so pleased that is wonderful news" she said genuinely, they were a well matched couple, why shouldn't she be glad for them?

"Yes" Mycroft gave her a sceptical look before raising his glass, "congratulations indeed" he smiled warmly, "of course you'll be needing a larger residence I presume?"

"Well I'm not sure, it depends if my wife is going to continue playing her Black Ops lifestyle on the side of juggling nightfeeds and nappies"

Mary shot her husband a glance that was clear warning he was going to be in very deep trouble when they weren't in front of an audience if he didn't tone it down. He'd had something up his backside about it ever since he found out that she had no intention of leaving the operation.

"Rather that than running off with your brother and proposing to raise the child in secret" Sherlock took a rather large gulp of wine. There was the most awkward moment yet. Eleanor wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and placed her hands on her lap, ashamed at the behaviour her husband displayed at the dinner table. Mary too didn't seem to know where to look, beside her John was practically staring holes into the side of Sherlock's head. Unsure of an appropriate response.

"Enough" Mycroft growled, "that is _enough,_ the pair of you are behaving like a pair of adolescent baboons. Forgive me Mary it seems my brother has had rather a bit too much to drink, I apologise for the first time you are formally introduced for it to be a complete shambles" Mary nodded at him in understanding.

"I think I will be off to bed, please excuse me" Eleanor ignored the four sets of eyes that all suddenly darted to her as she got up, she threw her napkin onto her plate and swiftly exited the room.

She sat on the bed and listened as the chatter of John and Mary's departure gradually subsided. The evening had been an absolute waste of time and effort, not to mention food. Everybody seemed to have had an underlying bone to pick with one another. She had been vexed with Sherlock, as had Mycroft, John was vexed at Mary as he was with Sherlock who seemed to be mad at the world. It was just one screw up after the other. A soft knock at the door disrupted her thoughts and Sherlock entered the room.

"I'm really not in the mood" she shook her head.

Sherlock walked over to where she was sat and lowered himself next to her on the bed, shedding his blazer on the nearby chair as he did "I wanted to apologise" he said sincerely, "my behaviour tonight was unacceptable and unforgivable. I should not have disclosed what I did to our guests. You should be angry at me I don't blame you"

"It sounds like Mycroft's words coming out of your mouth, he told you to come up here and say that didn't he?"

Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his older brother had _prompted_ him to do so but he wasn't going to admit to her that. He noticed her eyes were brimmed with tears and that her makeup had started to smudge, he sighed. He disliked crying.

"Please leave, I want to be alone"

"I'd say if that were true you'd have told me to get out when I came in"

"I've had a drink, you've had too much, it's a risky mix" she sniffed.

He was waiting for her to make the first move, not only intimately, even though they had yet to be physical and he found the more time he spent around her without being able to touch drove the need even further - but on a level of emotional and social understanding too. He had been 'alive' for nearly six months now and every effort at reconciliation was shot down, be it intentional or not.

"I've tried Sherlock, God knows I have tried. So much has happened I can't just flick a switch and pretend everything is normal, it is not normal. These past few years have been hell, you haven't the faintest clue what it's been like, I'm not even angry anymore" she sighed, she had never been good at getting him to understand things that to his brain were so minimal. "I'm just so drained"

Sherlock regarded her thoughtfully, he _had_ missed out on a lot. He recalled when he was annoyed at Mycroft because he hadn't seen fit to tell him the details of her living arrangements, _"you hadn't asked"_ he had said, _"not once had you asked about her"_. The words were still bitter in his memory despite them being said so many months previously. Only tonight when he found out about her higher position at work, she had been working years trying to obtain that position, John had known, Mary had known, no doubt Mycroft had know, he was always first to know their business these days, it riled him. When he questioned it to his wife she had said, _"you never asked"_

Was he really so apathetic? Borderline blind negligence?

For one of the very few times in his life he felt genuinely rotten.

"Sherlock, are you listening?" he snapped his attention back to her, "I asked why you come here"

"I don't really know" he admitted, "some naive part of me hoped we could pick up where we left off. You are my wife, despite my particularly sterile way of showing it I do love you, care for you. I never stopped" he smiled warmly and she suddenly felt flushed and very aware of his proximity, "I know I had a peculiar way of showing it, if I could, I would have done things differently, I was trying to protect you in my own way"

She wiped a tear that had run down her face leaving a pale streak where her makeup had been. He never spoke like this, in their entire over a decade long marriage he had never been so open. If she wasn't so tired and deprived of his general presence she would have been unnerved by this unusual display of un-like Sherlock-y disposition. In a strange way it was refreshing.

She looked up at him from where her head reached his shoulder, he was being genuine. Sherlock went to place his hand over hers on her lap and to his bitter surprise she pulled away, but there was a reluctance to it that gave him hope that the hesitation was a sign that she would be able to find it within herself to trust him again. She seemed to read his thoughts.

"I just need time. Give me time" she smiled brightly.

They didn't see or speak to each other for over a year.

 **AN/ Thankyou to everyone who has followed/alerted this story. Please take a moment to leave a comment.**


	9. Chapter 9

"'El'nor! El'nor!" the little voice shouted, a small child no older than 3 hastily ran into the living room and went slap bang into Eleanor's legs.

"You need to be careful my darling, what have I told you about running?" she scooped up the child, sweeping the loose strands of hair from her face, "what's the emergency?"

"Come see! Daddy's in the garden!" the sheer excitement in her voice made Eleanor smile brightly, "we have to see, now, quick!"

"Okay okay! Go and get your coat then it's very cold" she set her down and the little girl toddled off to the banister then came running back.

"Quick El'nor we're gonna miss it you have to see!" she grabbed Eleanor's hand and started tugging towards the kitchen to the back door, Eleanor leant down to slide her wellies on when suddenly something freezing and incredibly wet hit her cheek causing her to squeak in a very un-Eleanor fashion. There were two sets of laughter and she scowled at the culprit.

"Sorry love, couldn't resist"

"You'll pay for that Humphreys!" but Eleanor was smiling, and the man stepped closer, gently smoothing the remnants of the snowball away from her neck and collar, he held her gaze briefly before the moment was ruined by a little hand tugging the hems of their coats.

"Don't smooch daddy. Look! Snow!"

"Gosh you're right Isabelle! it is snowing!" they acted equally as surprised, after all Isabelle hadn't seen snow properly before and it was coming down thick and heavy, a good inch already blanketed the lawn.

"Daddy see!" she bent down and scooped up some of the snow, tossing it over her head and giggling, "we have to build an ice man!"

"Snowman dear" Eleanor quickly corrected, remembering her brother-in-laws nickname.

"I don't think its quite deep enough for a snowman yet sweetheart, besides we have to take you to your appointment soon" the little girl's dad said and her face dropped, hospital appointments were always long and boring, Isabelle breathe in Isabelle breathe out Isabelle follow the torch light and they were always taking samples of things, sticking needles in her arm, putting her through that tube thing where she couldn't see daddy or Eleanor. Sensing this Charlie mellowed, "alright I'll tell you what, go inside and fetch your hat and scarf off the big chair and we can build a baby one"

"Yay! baby snowmen!" hospital forgotton for the time being Isabelle ran off into the house giggling.

"You're going soft Mr Humphreys" Eleanor teased and Charlie wrapped his arm round her shoulder, pulling her into his chest.

"Weeelllllll. I can't say no to that little angelic face"

"Angelic?" Eleanor looked up at him "I'm sure you'd have thought so this morning when she was screaming the house down because she didn't want the little seeds to be on her strawberries"

"Terrible twos love" Charlie placed a delicate kiss at the corner of her mouth "she'll grow out of it"

"Daddy, El'nor there's a man at the door!" Isabelle shouted from the kitchen

Charlie rolled his eyes and tutted "It's probably someone trying to sell us something, I'll tell them to bugger off, calling at this time"

"Yea I'll get it, you can be the one to go in that hovel of a garage and dig out that shovel for Isabelle's snowman" she threw him a cheeky smile before making her way inside, she heard whoever it was knock again and Eleanor rushed faster.

"El'nor I've got wet in my wellyboot" Isabelle said most concerned, holding up her wellington boot in one hand and her soaking wet pink sock in the other. Eleanor picked her up so save her from hopping about with one shoe trailing snow through the house and there was another knock.

"Just a minute! she called, "Christ bloody selling stuff at this time, your shoe will just have to wait a moment baby" she said balancing Isabelle on her hip whilst unlocking the front door. It swung open and the earful that Eleanor had mentally prepared to give the salesman went faster than her heart.

"Hello"

Snow was falling even more heavy now, his hair and shoulders were covered in a layer of fluffy white and his cheeks were tinged pink from the cold. Tucked snugly under his arm was a brown folder.

"Whose that?" Isabelle asked curiously, playing with Eleanor's ponytail and giving the stranger at the door a quizzical look.

"Uhm. It's my friend sweetheart"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at that and Eleanor gently put Isabelle down, "why don't you go and help daddy, Izzy?"

"but my boot-"

"I know its okay I'll sort it later or go ask dad, go on"

"Ok she said, giving them an uneasy glance behind her as she disappeared down the hallway.

When she was sure she was out of earshot she rounded on her husband, eyes full of nails and fury "Sherlock you cant just come unannounced. It's inappropriate.. Not to mention rude!" She didn't ask how he had found her because of course, Mycroft.

"The divorce papers you wanted" he said holding up a folder, "thought I'd deliver them by hand"

"To be nosey you mean" Eleanor folded her arms, "well thank you, I'll see to it they are signed by tonight" just then Isabelle's footsteps accompanied by Charlie's voice wavered down the hallway and she panicked, "Sherlock this isn't a good time" but he was too busy not even trying to hide his curiosity as he peered round her shoulder to watch the two strangers come into view.

"El, who is it love?" Charlie said, pulling off his gloves as he did.

Another judgemental raised eyebrow from Sherlock. He was about to introduce himself when Eleanor quickly chirped in "uh Charlie this is Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock" she nodded at him, "this is Charlie Humphreys. He's brought the divorce papers dear"

"What's a divorce?" Isabelle asked bravely, stood behind her dad and clutching his leg, unsure of what to make of the peculiar visitor.

"It's something grown ups get when they're married and don't love each other anymore" Charlie explained and a nerve in Sherlock's lip twitched.

"Oh.."

"Sorry mate, pleased to meet you" Charlie offered his hand and Sherlock took it.

"Pleasure"

"Well, lets all not stand at the door, why don't you come in out of the cold"

Sherlock gave his stern looking wife a calculating look as he passed her into the hallway. This was going to be a long night.

"We're off out soon actually" she said as they all followed Charlie into the living room, Eleanor sat on the big chair and Isabelle instantly climbed to sit on her lap, still with only one shoe and started playing with Eleanor's pony tail for comfort.

"What about the snowman El'nor?"

"Later sweet, we'll have time I promise"

Sherlock scanned the room silently, this was not at all what he had expected to find upon tracking down his estranged wife, not what he expected at all.

"I've heard a lot about you Mr. Holmes, you must be a very busy man what with your work, hope you didn't take too much time out of your schedule to come here, can I get you a drink at all?

"Actually I won't be staying long, I feel like I have interrupted a rather important moment, I don't want you to miss out on the snow" he smiled warmly at Isabelle and she shyly tucked her face into Eleanor's neck, "thanks all the same, Charlie is it?"

"No worries pal, well if you're sure, come on sweetheart we'll see if we have any baby carrots for our baby snowman. Lets let El talk with her friend"

She took her dad's hand and slid off Eleanor's knee, her eyes never leaving Sherlock's but when he looked back at her she sheepishly looked away quickly. When the chatter of Isabelle's curiosity faded down the hallway Eleanor lifted herself off the chair.

"Right the papers then. Where do I sign?"

"Whose that?" Sherlock's face dropped into a scowl.

"Charlie? He is my boss"

"Boss?"

"Well in a slightly very well encased nutshell yes"

"He's too young for you"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. I'm the nanny"

"For whom?"

"Don't be cheeky, now hand me the papers please"

"Live in?" he gave a knowing look after another glance around the slightly cluttered living room, some of Eleanor's personal belongings were scattered about the place, items that a come and go nanny wouldn't bother to bring with them to work unless of course they were to stay the night.

"Yes actually" she took the folder from Sherlock and flicked through lazily, "I will need to read these thoroughly"

"What happened to your other job?"

Eleanor peered over her spectacles, "change of ambition"

"How modern"

"How is Mycroft?"

"Dieting. Seems since you moved out he no longer has a ready supply of homemade baking at his disposal"

"And John, Mary the baby?"

"Rosie will be one on the 16th. Not that I'm keeping track John just keeps mentioning it to me for some reason"

"Lovely" she smiled softly. She did miss them all, "and yourself?" Eleanor glanced up at her soon to be ex-husband to find he was already staring at her.

He hadn't registered what she's said yet, strands of hair were out of place from Isabelle playing with it and she had a stain on her blouse he assumed was some sort of jam substance from the child's breakfast or tea - Eleanor hated jam. The worry lines that were present a year ago when he waltzed back into her life were no longer there, she had a completely new aura about her and Sherlock felt a pang of something, guilt perhaps? Jealousy? It was becoming more apparent he was no longer the man she needed nor wanted. Her affections blatantly were no longer his anymore, they belonged to this.. this Charlie.

He remembered when he found out Mycroft had been keeping her company for that year he was away and all the anger and bitter resent he felt at their relationship, even though it was purely platonic, came rushing back. Now look, he's lost his wife to some..well… some single soccer dad.

"Sherlock?" his eyes darted to where the voice was coming from and he pulled his conscious to the now, "you're doing it again"

"Oh well you know" something on the mantle caught his eye and he moved towards it. It was a photograph. Eleanor, the child and that man. They were all sat down on a big blanket. Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the picture, Charlie's arm was around Eleanor's shoulder and her hand was resting on his leg, casually but at a level of intimacy that wasn't appropriate for just a nanny to his child, she was beaming at the camera - they all were.

"Does he pay you or is there another incentive? It's obvious to anyone with half a brain cell you're not JUST the nanny are you?"

"Business dear what have I said in the past about minding it" she said going back to the documents, pen tapping on the desk, a life long habit she'd picked up whilst concentrating. The corner of Sherlock's mouth crept up in a half smile.

"Only showing interest in what my dearly beloved gets up to these days" he placed the photo back, hands in his pockets he waited patiently for her to acknowledge him once more, "is there any particular reason for the divorce now?"

She shot him a dirty look. He was fishing.

"Not particularly, just deemed it sensible considering we've been living separate lives for a year"

"You didn't want to divorce me last time" he stuck out his bottom lip in a mock pout

"Yes well, can't very well divorce you if you're dead can I" a sharp exhale of breath. She didn't want to fall putty to his mind games and tricks of getting you to accidentally admit things you wouldn't normally.

"I'm not an idiot" and she raised her eyebrows

"Meaning?"

He tsked, the scolding look he gave her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up "never had you down for an adulterer Eleanor"

"I don't have time for this Sherlock, I will finish reading these tonight and have them posted in the morning. If that is all I really do need to be getting on" she stood up "do you need me to ring you a taxi?"

"No need, I can walk, I'll see myself out"

And he was gone.

Eleanor released a breath she wasn't sure why she'd been holding. Her palms were sweating and she suddenly felt the urge to have a cigarette.


	10. Chapter 10

"Is everything alright love?" Charlie said as Eleanor climbed into her side of the bed, he had been reading his book, with one arm tucked lazily behind his head, utterly at peace with himself until she'd sighed once more for about the tenth time, "you've been really quiet all night, is it because of the divorce?"

She wanted to say yes but she didn't want to make out it was really bothering her, "I'm just worried about Izzy dear" which of course she was, it was just another thing that made her restless at night. "I know she's doing well and progressing with everything it's just, every time we go to the hospital it's always the same, 'we'll keep her monitored for the next few months' I don't want her to miss out on anything, on being a child. I took her to the park the other day and almost had a heart attack when she jumped off the slide, the look on her little face she thought she was in trouble"

"Izzy's a tough cookie" he said putting his book down, "sometimes you just gotta let kids be kids"

"It's difficult though Charlie, you're not here all the time and I'm always scared she's going to get hurt. It just seems unfair, I feel like I'm wrapping her in cotton wool all the time"

"I know my love, but I've said it before, when she was born she was such a poorly baby, me and Trace were in and out of that hospital everyday, she was so small and weak the doctors tried to prepare us for the worst. And then she started getting better and growing properly, you know the rest. She's come a really long way love since before you came into our lives"

She smiled at him sleepily, "I know, it just gets me sometimes, I'm just tired it's been a trying day"

"Are you sure you're ex-husband turning up hasn't got something to do with it?"

"Maybe. It was just a bit unexpected it all. I'm glad the divorce is happening"

"Good, so am I. I'd hate for you to get cold feet about it now" he joked, giving her a kiss before going back to his book and she nudged him playfully.

It took her a while to drift off that night, she couldn't stop thinking about the divorce and she felt guilty for her thoughts not being solely on Isabelle, which they were mostly. Sherlock was just a niggly thought that wouldn't go away. She was the one who asked for the divorce, she was the one who initiated the first contact with Mycroft to get him to sign the papers in the first place, yet why did she feel so empty about it. She'd been Mrs. E Holmes for a long part of her life - for the happiest part of her life - mostly. It sort of felt like that part of her had gone to waste and it was very numbing. Soon she would be Eleanor Gracie once again.

Morning came soon enough with the ringing blare of the alarm clock going off at 6am. She felt Charlie shift beside her, content in the fact she wasn't the one who had to get up to go to work, well not yet anyway, she had at least another half an hour - maybe an hour until Isabelle woke up.

They'd do some baking together she thought to herself, still hazy from sleep, it had been ages since she'd baked. Charlie hadn't much of a sweet tooth so she rarely made the effort just for herself, Izzy had to be careful how much sugar intake she had, being born with a rare heart defect meant she was limited on a number of things - she still liked to help though and occasionally Eleanor would let her lick the spoon when they'd finished with it, just to have a taste. They'd both made special cupcakes once that Isabelle was allowed to have but she scrunched up her nose and said they didn't taste all that nice.

Mycroft loved her cakes. It was nice to make something for someone that appreciated it, even a little too much as his waist line did increase by a couple of inches during her stay. She missed Mycroft almost as much as she pretended she didn't miss Sherlock. No she didn't miss Sherlock she told herself, she just missed the comfort of routine with him, it would pass. She loved Charlie.

She _loved_ Charlie. She loved their wonderful un-nuclear little life together and she loved Isabelle as if she was her own. She was only just turned two when she met her so a fundamental part of her life Eleanor wasn't even there for. William would have been about the same age and she briefly wondered what they would have been like together. But she mustn't get into that.

"I'm going to work babe, see you at six"

"I hate when you call me that" she grumbled from the pillow, "it makes me feel that you're a lot younger than you are to me"

"Don't be daft you love being my cougar"

Eleanor grimaced into the pillow, there wasn't even that much to the age gap he just enjoyed reminding her there was one.

"Get gone or you'll wake your daughter up"

"Laters" he pecked her on the cheek and with that he left, accidentally letting the door slam as he did.

"Elllllllll'nooorrrrrr"

 **18 months ago.**

The door slamming made Sherlock leap up from the sofa and rush to the hallway. His shoulders slumped in disappointment when he realised it was only Mycroft.

"Well?" he demanded and Mycroft merely slid past him silently to the liquor cupboard.

"She is fine" he said, pouring himself a measurable amount of whiskey, "she's left all the money she had in her accounts, not purchased a single item with credit so she mustn't have wanted to be traced. Narrowed her residency down to not far from here, only 20 minutes away in fact"

At that Sherlock downed his drink and went to grab his coat, "I need you to drive me there"

"Think about this perhaps, she left without so much as a word, didn't bother to take any belongings, left all this sentiment behind" he started, "and Sherlock.. She's not alone. I would say for certain that she's very much done with this life and started another"

"Just take me"

"I think brother, that this is best for everyone, at least for the time being"

"What would you know?" Sherlock sagged against the door frame, catching a glimpse of himself in the window. He hadn't shaved in days, his hair wanted washing and his eyes were red rimmed and swollen. He felt his brother place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Let her go"

He remembered the last words they had spoke, 'just give me time.' What does that even mean? Time to do what exactly? She was still his wife she would have to come back eventually, wouldn't she?

 **Present.**

"Humphreys?"

"Yes. Ridiculous name"

"And he called her what?"

" _love"_

"Well we can't have that" Mycroft breathed looking appalled.

"I actually think it's rather sweet" Mary said, bouncing baby Rosie on her hip, "you can't have a say in anything anymore Sherlock, you're getting a divorce"

"Yes well, I don't want her going to just anybody do I, I mean I still, I don't want to be concerned about the woman" he struggled, knowing John was probably giving him that smug annoying look, "somewhat"

" _Somewhat_ , bloody hell Sherlock admit it. You're jealous"

"Don't be absurd John"

"Then why did you go over there why couldn't you have just posted them like a normal person"

"Yea, I posted her invitation to Rosie's Christening on her birthday, don't see me turning up at her front door like a stalker"

"You did what?"

"Well I did want her to be godmother Sherlock, no matter what your circumstances are"

"No not that! How did you get her address? How long have you been in contact with her?"

"Well let's see uhm" Mary pretended to think, "would have been when I called her up and asked"

"So you've known where she was and didn't think to tell me?"

"Yes Mary, why didn't you think to mention it?" John added giving her a stern look

"I did promise not to say anything, she didn't want any fuss. Besides it wouldn't have done either of you any favours until it all blew over. We don't keep in contact all the time, just a quick phone call here and there to catch up. We became really close friends before all of this happened"

"And you thought inviting her was going to be a good idea, did you?" John rounded on his wife, moustache doing that irritated twitch that it does when he's trying to keep calm.

"Yes! Like I said I want her to be Rosie's godmother"

"Well Sherlock's supposed to be her godfather so how do you work that one out?"

"Hey stop getting so snappy she might not even want too yet" Mary handed a now fussing baby to John.

"Shit Sherlock, I didn't know, I don't know who she's bloody invited"

"Not to worry John it will be fine. Everything's fine"

Back at her house, Eleanor stared blankly at the divorce papers, they'd been sat in her bedside table all week and she hadn't had the heart to tell Charlie she hadn't sent them off yet. She would do though. Eventually. Maybe tomorrow.

She heard Charlie's footsteps on the stairs and quickly shoved them back in the drawer, she grabbed the hair dryer from the floor to look like she was busy doing something other than what she had been.

"Ello love" he leant down and pecked her cheek, "good afternoon?"

"Yes" she said pulling her damp hair in a low pony tail, "Isabelle's next door playing with Tilly so I've had an hour or so this evening to get some errands done and have a bath. That's it really other than our usual routine this morning, it's been rather dull to be honest without either of you here. How was your day?"

He shrugged his jacket off and placed it over the chair, "Same old same old. And I'm here now" he moved over to where she was sat on the bed in her dressing gown and started rubbing her shoulders, "And if Izzy's next door for a bit that means we have some time to ourselves" he leant down to place a kiss behind her ear and Eleanor visibly relaxed. His hands slid down her arms to the fastening that was holding her robe in place and tugged it open, "how about you let me fuck your brains out eh?" he whispered against her skin, tongue gently lapping at that sweet spot behind her ear and he chuckled against her skin when she let out a small gasp, "would you like me to do that to you El?"

She turned round smiling to lean back on the bed, pulling Charlie down on top of her.

But afterwards it felt wrong, it felt all wrong.

It didn't sink in until about half way through when it was almost Sherlock's name she moaned. She doubted Charlie noticed. Afterwards he just lay back satisfied and snuggled into the duvet, fully intending to doze off for a while. Eleanor used the opportunity to get dressed quickly. She felt grimy for allowing him to invade her thoughts whilst she was giving herself to another. Thoughts like that had remained burried deep until now.

 **AN/ Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted so far. It's a real boost, please take a second to leave a comment!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Trigger warning in flashback (Italics)**

 _Eleanor thrashed about in the hospital bed in uncontrollable agony, she'd begged the nurses to make it stop, and when they said they couldn't she then begged Mycroft._

 _Nothing._

 _She screamed again, the pain rippling through her body, vision blurry she knew what was happening. She'd relived it over and over again when she fell asleep with a troubled mind. She knew what was coming and there was nothing to be done only let it play out. She clutched Mycroft's hand as if it was the only thing keeping her from slipping away._

" _Please please please" like a mantra, over and over again she pleaded. She was vaguely aware of Mycroft whispering to the nurses in snappy tones, asking them if there was nothing that could be done._

" _I'm afraid not"_

 _The nurse looked Eleanor dead in the eye, a fuzzy long since passed memory still so real in the nest of a dream. She'd experienced the nightmare a hundred times over and she knew she'd probably experience it a hundred times again. Always always always the same, she could recall the clothes she was wearing the eve it started and then the hospital gown she'd doned afterwards, the medical staff's faces, the suit Mycroft was wearing it was all so vivid. Although the dream always made it ten times more bloody and messy than it had been when they pulled William from her body._

 _Please.. Please.._

"Please.." Eleanor whimpered and Charlie shook her, she woke up from the nightmare wide eyed and sweaty.

"It's okay darling, it's over now" he soothed whilst stroking her hair, "the same one again?"

She nodded. She went through spells of these dreams, for a few weeks she would be fine then all at once she'd have consecutive nightmares surrounding what happened two years ago, "yes. I'm fine though, ugh what time is it?" she asked groggily

"Ten to three, you started mumbling in your sleep but I didn't want to wake you up, until you started with the wriggling and calling out that is" he reached over to his side and flicked on the lamp, "do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, "honestly I am fine. Nothing I haven't had before. You should get back to sleep, you have work in the morning" she immediately pulled the covers back and got up, she hated talking about it. All it ever did was make the situation that little bit worse, then she'd start sobbing then Charlie wouldn't know what to do.

He watched her leave the room without a backwards glance, trying to ignore the feeling she was somehow slipping away.

In the kitchen Eleanor poured herself a glass of Jack - no coke, then pulled the kitchen chair over to the cupboard so she could reach the highest shelf where her cigarettes were hidden. She'd half attempted to give up when she started her job as Isabelle's nanny, then when the relationship with Charlie started and he was very big on health and all that crap.

She sat at the kitchen table and tried to think of something else, anything else just to stop her heart from racing. She reached for her phone to try and distract herself and saw that she had an unread message from Mary, it read,

"Heya El, just checking to confirm if you'll be attending Rosie's christening tomorrow. Not sure if you would want to or not.. No pressure, would be great to see you. Let me know, we need a catch up! xx"

She stared blankly at the text, she hadn't received an invitation.. It was unlikely it had got lost in the post and she was certain Mary had the correct address. Charlie hadn't mentioned anything...

"Are you sure this wise Sherlock?"

"Yes don't question me again, it's staying here"

Mycroft sighed, "Very well, suit yourself. I will never understand this sentiment malark. Never did Eleanor any favours I shouldn't think it would do you any either"

The piano Eleanor once played for hours on end now sat in it's rightful place in 221B, albeit now rather dusty and forgotten. Sherlock insisted he needed it to fill the awful space left by the absence of it's presence. But Mycroft knew, they all knew.


	12. Chapter 12

John was losing patience. He had waited, both patiently at first and impatiently now. He had paced the flat, huffed in annoyance, exasperated the fact Sherlock had solved cases quicker in the time it was taking for him to decide on a pigging tie. Drank multiple cups of tea that Mrs Hudson had kept bringing up and he was still waiting. He had called over an hour ago to pick up Sherlock and Mrs Hudson and in that time they had done nothing only wait for Lord Muck to decide on suitable attire.

"Come on Sherlock you're acting like a bloody woman"

"What do you think?" Sherlock adjusted his tie for what must've been the tenth time that morning

"It looks fine Sherlock, like I said two tie changes ago. Stop faffing"

"I never faf. And I'm not sure.. I don't think it's really a tie event come to think of it"

John smirked from behind him as Sherlock checked himself out in the mirror once more, "You know Sherlock if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to impress someone"

"Yea you're right" he huffed and John raised his eyebrows in surprise, "you really don't know any better. Nahh" he hastily yanked the offending article from his neck and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Whatever. Look we really need to get a move on we have twenty minutes to drive back to mine, hopefully Mary will have Rosie ready and then get to the church _before_ I get yelled at for being late _again_. It's not even my fault" he added but he wasn't listening.

"Do you think she'll bring _him?_ " Sherlock didn't look John in the eye as he now started fiddling with his cufflinks. Any other time John would have said something rather courteous and considerate but he'd been waiting almost an hour now and all manner of tact had long since been thrown out the window - as well as that tie would be if he so much as touched it once more.

"Look I don't know can we please just go!"

"Where's Mrs Hudson?" he scanned the room and John felt his blood pressure go up another notch.

"In the car" he gritted, "where she has been. For the past forty minutes"

"Right" Sherlock gathered his jacket from the chair, padding the pocket to check his cigarettes where safely in there, he had a feeling he was going to need them today.

John's phone started buzzing for the fourth time and he regarded the caller ID with a grimace, "that's Mary, come on I don't fancy getting another earful" they scooted down the stairs with haste, missing every other step as they went.

"Listen," John said when they were finally in the car, "I know you don't really like talking about this sort of thing but it's okay to feel a little nervous about these things"

"Who said I was nervous?"

"You keep messing with those sodding cufflinks and there's only so much you can do with them" he joked trying to lighten the mood, "look, I don't think she will bring what's his name but if he does show up, what difference does it make? Really? You'll be divorced soon either way so I don't really see the problem"

"That's the thing though John, the proceedings can't go through because the lawyer hasn't received them. It's been well over a week and the recipient hasn't signed them"

 **Earlier.**

"El'nor can I come to the party?"

"It's not a party baby it's a Christening" Eleanor explained as she poured Isabelle's cereal and handed it to her, "It will be full of grown ups, besides somebody has to stay here and look after daddy"

Isabelle stared into her cereal deep in thought for a moment, "Can't he come too?"

"No sweetheart"

"Go where?" Charlie yawned as he walked into the kitchen, still in his dressing gown and slippers. He dipped to press a kiss on her cheek as he passed, not noticing her sour faced disposition "you look smart love, what's the occasion?"

"El'nor's going to a party and she said we can't come" at that realisation started to sink into Charlie's face and he met Eleanor's eyes with a stony expression.

"You wouldn't enjoy it Iz, like I said I need you to watch daddy for me"

"What party?"

"Oh you know," she said non-coherently as she tided up her own breakfast plate from the table, "Rosie's Christening. The one you tried to stop me from going to"

"Aghhhhhh" he winced, "Look, El-"

"Don't 'El' me, you did it for no other reason than selfishness. Mary is MY friend, I will decide what I do and whom I see, not you Charlie" she folded her arms and regarded him with that dagger look which was usually saved for when Isabelle was being naughty.

"I didn't think it was a good idea. Plus you and Mary hardly speak anymore I didn't think you would miss it"

" _Miss it?_ My own goddaughters Christening?"

"What's a goddaughter?" Isabelle asked slurping the milk from her cereal bowl and her father gave her a sharp look, "is it God's daughter?"

"Don't mither whilst daddy's talking okay hunny" Charlie rubbed a hand over his face, he wasn't really sure how to explain it to her and things were already tense enough.

"Am I a goddaughter?"

"Izzy please go and play in your room. I'll come up in a bit"

"But-"

" _Now_ " he hissed and Isabelle shot out of the kitchen leaving her cereal behind.

"That was unfair, there was no need for that Charlie, it's not her fault she doesn't understand"

"Well I don't understand, Christ El. I didn't think anything of it I apologise, I just got anxious and started thinking. With you there, him there, my mind just started making up scenarios and one thing led to another and I just.. I didn't mean for you to find out I know it sounds bad"

"Charlie. It wasn't your place"

"I know" he stood up and started to rub her arms, "but you shouldn't feel obliged it's not-"

"You're not listening. It was not your place. It was not your business to open my addressed mail, to violate my privacy. You have no right to lie to me like that, I'm really pissed off. It should have been my choice whether or not I go, not yours. I don't want to discuss it further, I'm going to be late"

Charlie's face dropped, "what about Isabelle? She needs you"

"It's Saturday afternoon, she's your daughter do something and be a father for a change"

The door slammed loudly behind her.

Everyone made it to the church with time to spare, despite what seemed like a thousand hiccups along the way. John was stood outside with Mary greeting people when Eleanor walked up the path.

"Eleanor I wasn't sure you would make it" Mary said in pleasant surprise and pulled Eleanor into a tight hug, "I'm so glad you came, I was hoping you would"

"Well, I very nearly didn't but that can wait till later, now where's my little goddaughter?"

"She's inside with Mrs Hudson, we're just waiting for the last few to arrive"

"Come on your own did you?" John gave her a friendly peck on the cheek and noticed no one else who seemed to be hovering around her.

"Yes, just me" she smiled and John gave her a knowing look

"Well it's lovely to have you here, thankyou for coming"

She walked in alone, scanning the hall for little Rosie and then she noticed her, being bounced playfully in her pretty gown on Sherlock's lap and her heart skipped a beat. He looked happy, _genuinely_ content with entertaining the young one whilst the adults zipped about greeting each other and arranging people into their places. She walked over and she wasn't sure why she suddenly felt so nervous, she felt the hair on her neck stand up and her pulse quickened as she neared her husband taking care of the infant. When she finally reached them after what felt like the longest walk down the aisle she was sure she was bright red.

"Hi Rosie" she cooed at the infant, stroking her pink cheeks. She was trying not to look at Sherlock but one mistimed glance and his steel blue eyes had locked onto hers. She felt exposed.

"Eleanor" he nodded, "it's good to see you"

She released a long breath, "yes, and you Sherlock. It's good to see you too"

"Here" he stood up and handed the baby to his wife, "It's about time you properly met"

"Hello little one. Aren't you just lovely" Eleanor bounced Rosie gently and Sherlock shoved his hands in his pockets trying not to look mesmerised as he watched the pair of them together.

"Did you bring a plus one?"

"No. Did you?"

"No"

 _The relief._

"Well then, I guess we'll have to be each others" she smiled at him for the first time in what seemed like forever. A genuine smile, the kind she would often give him when he did something nice or clever or when she was impressed. The kind she would give him when he played a particularly pleasant piece of music on his violin. The kind that chipped away at his stony cold disposition he was so hell bent on maintaining. The kind she would give him on a Sunday morning when they'd both slept in and knew neither of them intended on getting up any time soon.

He quickly pulled his mind back to the present with a sharp clearing of his throat, he was divulging too deeply into what was a simple gesture.

 **AN/ Thankyou everyone for your comments, please drop a review if you are enjoying this story. You may have noticed I'm trying to make the chapters shorter so I can update more often. Depending on what people prefer I can write more lengthily chapters but at a slower pace obviously. Let me know! :)**


	13. Chapter 13

The service had gone smoothly according to plan, everyone was currently filing out of the church into the grounds for pictures before heading over to the venue for the party. Eleanor quickened her pace to catch up with Sherlock who was first to be outside, currently inhaling away on a cigarette.

"Sherlock I wanted to talk to you"

He took another cigarette out of his inside pocket and lit it off his own, handing it to her wordlessly.

"That's good, I wanted to speak with you too - about the divorce. Or therefore lack of" and she hung her head before taking a long drag of her cig, wincing ever so slightly and trying not to cough at the vile aftertaste. Sherlock let out a fast exhale of breath from his nose. "Trying to give up are we?"

"Yes"

"Not doing very well I see"

"Cutting back not giving up. Got to have some pleasures in this life"

He regarded her with a peculiar look.

"So your divorce then, everything seems to have come to a standstill"

"I've been busy" she made sure she maintained eye contact, if she didn't Sherlock would know she was bluffing over something, "Isabelle's been poorly recently and Charlie's been working later I don't have a minute to myself"

"My word Eleanor, blink! Nothing gives you way more than when you stare at me all unnaturally like that"

"I really have been busy" she said quietly. The air was crisp and cold, winter skies left a greyish overcast over everything making it seem bleak and gloomy. The surroundings eerily mirrored the day they got married. Same church, same chilling temperatures, same cold grey sky. The thought made Eleanor shiver and at this point she wished she'd been more concerned over choosing an outfit for warmth, not for how well it went with the occasion. A thin blouse and pencil skirt seemed rather redundant in the harsh December air. He watched her try not to shiver and mentally fought with the obligation to give her his coat.

"You're looking well" she smiled when he didn't reply.

"As are you"

Now it just felt forced. What do you even say to your estranged soon to be ex husband who you didn't technically leave on bad terms with? _She_ technically had done the running off. _She_ was the one who'd fobbed him off on false pretences of needing 'more time'

More time to what exactly? What had she done with this much needed more time? She had got a new job which was necessary.. The intimacy with Charlie could have been avoided. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be, and yet seeing Sherlock just now stood outside with his collar turned up from the wind with his hair all mussed and messy really set off something she'd quiet forgotten about. No. This was not what she had chose. Charlie was at home, heck so was Isabelle, both waiting for her.

"Sherlock there you are!" John called from the gate, we're heading over to the reception, are you jumping in with us?"

"I have my car" she said to Sherlock before even realising the suggestion and he raised his eyebrows. "I mean it could be a little cramped with all Rosie's stuff in the back in John's"

The journey was mostly silent. Aside from Sherlock's offhand remarks about 'watch that cyclist' when they were about a mile off, and 'was there any need to run that red?' when they'd cleared it in plenty of time. She never knew why he always thought she wasn't a good driver, for years he'd criticized it and it wasn't as though he had ever bothered to learn. She must have voiced this because she heard him mumble something along the lines of "unnecessary"

"Shit Sherlock, pass me that cloth would you it's just in the glove box" the icy rain had started to come down now making the windows fog up and her car wasn't de-misting the windscreen fast enough.

He opened it and a ton of shit came tumbling out, an Oasis cd, about three packs of gum, a penknife, one of Izzy's toys, hair pins, the windscreen cloth and then a small photo fell face down on the floor.

He flipped it over out of curiosity and he was not prepared for it.

Eleanor glanced to see what he was looking at and her breath hitched in her chest, "please be careful with that" she breathed quietly.

"Is this..?"

"Yes"

His eyes quickly darted to the top left hand corner of the black and white photo to see the name "HOLMES, Eleanor Rosaline" and then further to the right the date from approximately 6 or so months after give or take when he faked his own death. It came with odd relief to find it wasn't recent.

"Ive never.." he looked at his wife to see she was smiling sadly.

"That's William. Our baby"

Sherlock stared at the ultrasound scan, even as a black and white image he was still perfect. He had never seen him before, they'd barely even talked about him much. For once Sherlock Holmes was at a complete and utter total loss of what to say. This was the closest he would ever get to be with him and it was completely by chance he even stumbled across the photo. Beside him Eleanor stared blankly ahead, not really sure what words were appropriate to say to him.

"You may keep it if you like"

As if by miracle the subject of William seemed to break the ice, rather than thicken it as both of them had thought. The rest of the journey didn't seem uncomfortable or strange, just content. In a way she was pleased he found it and felt a pang of guilt for not showing him before now, after all Mycroft had had the pleasure of seeing him, holding him, he had gotten the privilege to prepare for when he was born and would have - had fate been kinder - been able to have got to know him. Sherlock had been robbed of all that - albeit not Eleanor's fault but it still stung.

A few hours (and many drinks) later everyone was in high spirits and cheering for little Rosie. Sherlock however as much he was in reasonable spirits remained sensibly seated at his table, mulling over the afternoon's events. John practically tripped into the seat next to him and leaned over, "well that went off without a single hitch"

"Yes, quiet a memorable day" he smiled sincerely, "I am glad"

"and you, a godfather eh?" he drunkenly pinched Sherlock's cheek, "bet you can't wait for all the babysitting"

"Quite. John I do hope you're not planning on driving tonight?"

"Well, no" he thought for a moment, "yes… no I mean no"

"Dear god John, it's a Christening"

"Precisely, cheer up it's a Christening, not a funeral, nobody died" he opened his arms wide and the corner of Sherlock's lip tugged upwards. "Hey look" he nudged him with his elbow and a drunkenly misplaced wink and gestured towards Eleanor who was walking right towards them, "it's the Mrs"

"John please, we're practically divorced"

"Oh come off it, if a divorce was on the cards it would have happened by now" he nudged him again and accidentally slopped his drink over himself. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "There's hope for the old dog yet" he giggled.

"John, Mary's looking for you. Just a word of warning she doesn't look too impressed" Eleanor sat next to Sherlock on the other side and they both watched as John clumsily made his way across the room, bumping into people and sloshing his drink as he went. It was quite amusing really, watching someone who was usually very sensible and level headed come completely undone after a few pints of larger.

They sat in comfortable silence for a long few minutes before Eleanor finally leant towards him and spoke softly, "you know Sherlock, I don't know if this is the gin talking or I'm just having a nice time but I've actually enjoyed spending this time with you today"

"It's the gin" he said and she chuckled.

"Maybe" she too chuckled and she made a mental note to watch her alcohol intake from now on. She did feel slightly more at ease than usual and that sort of demeanor was rarely reserved, it made her feel silly. "But what I meant to say is, I've enjoyed being here with you. It's been pleasant"

"Definitely the gin" he glanced at her sideways with that half smile that once would have made her stomach flutter, in fact if she was going to be truthful she couldn't say it didn't stir up some sort of similar impression now.

She glanced away uncharacteristically shyly and sipped her drink.


	14. Chapter 14

Neither of them really knew anyone else besides John, Mary and Mrs Hudson and the three of them were currently mingling with other people in the chaos of the party. It was only by circumstance that they were content in each others company by the table. They'd talked, shared cigarettes and even at one point got up for a bit of a dance, the alcohol had given them both confidence in a way they wouldn't have had there not been any available.

"It is a shame about you two" Mrs Hudson patted Sherlock's knee, "you were such a lovely couple and it was nice having another woman about the house"

Sherlock didn't respond.

In the Ladies Eleanor checked her reflexion in the mirror, her lipstick was still in place, good. Her hair look reasonably in tact considering the weather, and she could still walk in a straight line. She wasn't drunk. Well, not much. Her phone buzzed and she saw a message from Charlie. 'How's it going?'

She remembered this morning, she hadn't really left on the best of terms but she was still angry at him for trying to keep it from her in the first place. She decided to ignore it for now.

Mary walked in with a fussy Rosie looking panicked, "oh Eleanor thank heavens, could you just take her for me, John's spilt wine all over my shirt the clumsy idiot"

"Of course" and when she took her she calmed some, staring up at Eleanor with curious wide blue eyes.

"You need to teach me that" Mary breathed as she frantically tried to rinse out the crimson spillage before it stained, "sometimes I swear she starts stropping on purpose when I hold her"

Eleanor chuckled, "are you being a cheeky baby for mummy?" she cooed at the infant and Rosie let out a gurgle.

"She likes you"

"It would appear so" Eleanor bounced her slightly and Rosie suddenly became interested in the chain jangling round her neck.

"You're a natural" Mary smiled at them, still fussing with the blouse,

"How is everything with Sherlock? I hope things aren't too awkward"

"Surprisingly not, I thought it would have been a little peculiar but it's comfortable"

"Didn't you want to bring Charlie?"

"Heavens no, he'd have only made things more complicated than they already are, besides given the short notice we wouldn't have been able to get a sitter for Isabelle"

"Short notice?" Mary looked confused, "how do you mean?"

Eleanor sighed, "Well he hid the invitation you sent so I only knew about it the night before when you text me"

Mary's eyes widened, "You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was. I'm still angry at him"

"Suppose he didn't want you to be around Sherlock"

"True. Still not his call though. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this" she stroked Rosie's cheek causing her to get excited and jingle the necklace further. It caught Mary's eye.

"You still have feelings for him don't you?" Eleanor didn't look up, "oh come on El I see the way you are around each other when you think no ones watching"

"It's complicated Mary, too much has happened. Of course I'll always feel _something_ for him, he was apart of my life for such a long time. It's just hard to forget what he did, he missed so _so_ much when he was… Well wherever he was" Eleanor looked sadly at her engagement and wedding bands clasped in Rosie's chubby fist on the necklace "besides, I have a new life now, a family I could never just leave all that behind"

"But do you _love_ Charlie?"

"No, I don't" Eleanor said honestly, "not in the same way anyway. It's difficult to explain"

"Same way as who?" Mary asked, her eyes twinkling

"You know what I mean. He's been my rock after Sherlock just waltzed back into my life. I couldn't carry on living with Mycroft forever and I needed to move on. I'll be forever grateful it's just.. I feel like something's missing. I love Isabelle and taking care of her it's just recently.. Charlie can be away for so long with work and sometimes I feel like a single parent, I know she's not biologically mine but she's damn near enough. And I know he took me on as her nanny but, oh I don't know Mary"

"He still cares for you" she said matter of fact, "John told me he took all morning to choose out his cufflinks and fancying himself in the mirror"

"Is it terrible of me that I'm dreading going home?"

Mary gave her shoulder a gentle rub, "It will be fine, everything will work out as it should" and Eleanor chuckled, her friend was ever so the optimist.

"We need a catch up, soon. I've missed this"

"Well, how're you set for tomorrow evening?"

"Izzy has an appointment then so a bit tricky"

"How about Tuesday?"

"Perfect"

"Excellent, I'll have John take Rosie out for a couple of hours and we can have cheap takeaway and wine at ours. I'd ask if you wanted to do your place but walls have ears and all that"

"Yes quite right"

"Come on lets go back out there"

Eleanor walked back to her seat with Rosie, allowing Mary to get herself another drink, she saw that Janine was cosying up to Sherlock, he'd have looked uncomfortable if it wasn't for Janine's hand on his knee and whispering something only he could hear, he smiled coyly.

"Oh hello Janine, haven't seen you since the wedding" she remembered it well, the bridesmaid had had way to much to drink and tried it on with practically any man who looked at her.

"Eleanor" she removed her hand from Sherlock's leg and regarded her with a look of displeasure, "didn't know you were here"

"Evidently" Sherlock breathed, he gave a childish grin at the flicker of fury on his wife's face.

"Oh relax Janine, we're getting a divorce"

"You are?" she gave Sherlock a squeeze and he looked accusingly at her hand clamped on his forearm.

"Yes, in fact we're just waiting for the proceedings to go through, should be any day now, shouldn't it Eleanor?"

Eleanor held his gaze, she wasn't going to bite, no matter how smug and matter of fact he looked.

"Any day now" she repeated.

Janine left to get drinks, flashing Sherlock a devilish smile as she went.

"Isn't she a bit young for you?"

"Well you're almost six years my junior"

Eleanor shrugged, "just doesn't really seem your type, just because I danced with you before doesn't mean you have to get cocky"

Her phone buzzed again on the table, the screen lit up and she saw Charlie's name and x3 by the envelope icon. She flipped it over on the table.

"Oooooooh" Sherlock's mouth made a small 'o' "seems like somebody's being ignored. Not trouble in paradise I hope?"

"Nothing of the sort"

"Or maybe he's paranoid" he turned his body to face her properly, eyes boring into hers in that unnerving way he reserved for when he was about to make a deduction.

"Let's see if I've still got it"

"Don't" Eleanor warned

And then it began.

"If you wanted him here he would be, it's not as though he had to work today or if he did he's working from home but let's be honest who doesn't blow off work when they're working from home now and again, no he isn't here because he wasn't invited and it's not because of the child there's plenty of children here that wasn't the issue here. I'm going to take a wild guess here a stab in the dark if you will and do tell me if I'm wrong but there's some tension at home and it's not because of the working or the child or the late nights judging from the bags under your eyes and the multiple packets of sleeping tablets in your bag, you're not on prescription anymore because he doesn't believe in that, quite controlling if you ask me but no the tension stems from you and the fact our divorce papers are still lying around waiting to be signed or better still perhaps it's because you've still got your wedding and engagement rings tucked away under your blouse where it's remained there for your entire relationship, tell me Eleanor does he take you to bed with tho-"

"Sherlock, stop" she snapped. She couldn't be bothered with his deductions. She knew if he wanted he could have her all figured out - or maybe he already has and was just toying with her. Either way it was only for the sake of her privacy and personal vigilance that he stopped doing it all those years ago. He would have still wound her up with it sometimes though. She could have nipped to the shop and come back to a full mental shopping list from Sherlock explaining that he bet she bought the full fat stuff because it was her time of the month coming up or she could meet up with Mary and he'd know exactly what they'd eaten and drank and the topic of their bloody conversations.

Her phone buzzed once more and she seized the opportunity to escape the situation, she carefully handed Rosie to Sherlock, "excuse me"

 **AN/ thanks again for your comments and favourites! Special thankyou to Kuppcake for the consecutive reviewing and easy motivation :)**


	15. Chapter 15

"I will be home by ten Charlie, don't worry. A few of us are going to the pub after here, I'll get a taxi back then pick my car up in the morning, ok?"

"Alright love, you worry me is all. I don't want you thinking I'm checking up on you I hope you're having a good time"

"It's really nice actually. I forgot how much I enjoyed spending time with Mary and John" she was careful to not mention Sherlock's name, "Little Rosie has really come on loads she's a darling. How is Isabelle?"

"She's fine we're just watching a film before bedtime"

"Give her a cuddle from me"

"Will do love, enjoy yourself!"

She hung up the call and a guilty feeling rose in the pit of her stomach. She enjoyed being here a little too much, it felt right, where she should be. The pre-worry of going home made her anxious, another drink or two would fix that.

Mary came stumbling outside, John closely behind.

"Got a lighter?"

"John! Since when do you smoke?" Eleanor laughed as she dug around in her bag

"He's gone all bad boy on me" Mary nudged his shoulder and almost fell over, giggling "it's cute"

"Where's Rosie?"

"Oh she's inside, going to have a little sleepover with Mrs H tonight"

"Did you ask?" Eleanor lit an extra cig and passed it to John

"Not yet"

"Bloody hell"

"You swear a lot more now" Mary lent against the wall, a thick puff of smoke billowing into the night air "you didn't used to. Charlie's influence that is"

"What is?" Sherlock seemed to appear out of nowhere

"Your wife's foul mouth" and then John burst out laughing causing Mary to spot an innuendo and then they were all chuckling, except for Sherlock who found it incredibly not funny at all.

"Oh come on mate it's only a joke"

"Is it?" he gave a pointed look at Eleanor and she rolled her eyes.

"You two coming to The Feather's after this?"

"Think so, what time you thinking of going?"

"You sure Charlie doesn't mind you being out after dark?" Mary joked and then John started

"With your exxxxxxxx?"

"Shuttup. Yes it will be fine"

They rang the taxi about an hour later and after many drinks, Mary had even got them all doing shots, Mrs Hudson had taken Rosie back to Baker Street after John dropped the "Mrs H can you do us a favour?" bomb and most of the people had started filing out to go home. Except for Janine, she was still mulling around Sherlock at the table.

"You know a girl such as myself under the influence I am under could potentially do anything to a tall handsome stranger like yourself" she flirted in an Irish lilt whilst walking two fingers up Sherlock's shirt

"Under the influence you are, but under me I'm afraid you won't be" he removed her hand from his chest but the coy smile he flashed her made Eleanor's skin crawl.

How could he, right under her nose? She knew jealously was never a flattering feature but she couldn't help it, Janine had practically been throwing herself at her husband all night and he wasn't exactly giving her clear signals. Why was she annoyed? She hadn't exactly been monogamous, but then again they were separated, hence forth why was she irritated?

She jumped at Mary's voice shouting her from the bar, "El we've rang the taxi, getting another round in before we go you having another?"

"Heavens yes" she breathed and went to help her carry the drinks.

"Janine's a bit forwards isn't she?" Mary nodded at her whilst giving the bar tender a twenty.

"You could say that"

"Doing your head in?"

"Categorically so"

"Well don't worry about it, her boyfriend is picking her up soon"

"Boyfriend?" Eleanor raised her brows

"Yea, well, on and off boyfriend"

"Ah I see. I'm going for a quick smoke, you coming?" Eleanor grabbed Sherlock and her own drinks and went to head back to the table that was now unoccupied.

"Yea I'll be there in a sec"

She started lighting up at the entrance when she heard some giggling come from outside, Janine had Sherlock's coat collar scrunched up in her fists and was on tippy toes pressing her lips against his.

"Oh" Eleanor squeaked, "didn't realise I was interrupting something"

Sherlock quickly pushed Janine away from him, he looked angry. Janine on the other hand, well Eleanor would have liked to wipe that smug smile right off her face.

"You weren't" he said quickly, "just making sure she get's in the car okay"

"That's a funny way to escort someone, with your hand almost up her-"

"Janine!" Mary yelled from inside, "Mike's waiting for you round the back, he's on the phone you better go he said he's not waiting forever"

"Ooooooo" she went for his collar again and he swatted her hands away, "I'll be seeing you again Mr. Holmes"

"Hmm" was all he said, holding her hands firmly in front of her to stop them from wandering whilst he walked her to her lift. As they went Eleanor watched carefully, Janine was sloshed. Sherlock put her arm round his neck so he could walk her down the path easier and she took the opportunity to try and snog him again. Eleanor cringed.

It took a while but when she was gone and she could see Sherlock walking back to the entrance she felt a sense of relief. She'd half expected Mike to batter him had he seen what his girlfriend was doing to him.

He reached her and wordlessly removed his coat, placing it round her shoulders.

"You're freezing" he said at the blank expression on her face.

She pulled it round her a little tighter, the smell of his cologne practically radiating off the garment.

"You've got a nerve Sherlock Holmes" she sounded angry but her face was full of bemusement.

"How so?"

She scoffed, "well first you let her kiss you then you cop a feel, walk her back to her _boyfriend's_ car then waltz back over here and give me your coat like a gentleman"

"Does that bother you?"

Eleanor thought for a moment, regretting the brass statement, "look you can do whatever you want" she suddenly felt the weight of the situation and decided it got unamusing very quickly. "It's your life, you can do what you want it's none of my business.. I suppose I just didn't expect to see.."

"Eleanor Holmes is that jealously I detect?"

"Absolutely not" she lied.

"I am rarely ever wrong about my deductions"

"'Rarely' being the intended meaning here"

"Well, I have had a drink"

There was a long moment when neither of them said anything, Sherlock noted she still looked hurt, "she kissed me" he said truthfully, "I pushed her away and I've not tried to encourage her" at that Eleanor rolled her eyes, "I can't help it if women want to throw themselves at me"

"Don't flatter yourself dear"

"There's been no one else."

Sherlock then moved closer, into her personal space and she looked up at him with wide eyes, hazy from drink. His were heavy, she could feel his warm breath on her cold face and she couldn't help but feel welcome to it. It had been so very long since she'd been at such an intimate nearness to him. He moved closer still, not really doing anything other than staring at her, and then his eyes darted, only briefly, to her lips and she felt something quickly stir in her stomach. That nervous yet excited pang that sparks through you like an electric pulse, waking up all your senses to the here and now.

"Taxis here!" someone yelled from inside and they practically jumped apart.

The next morning Eleanor woke up to a splitting headache. She didn't remember getting home or going to bed, she was still wearing the clothes from the night before. She lifted her banging head from the pillow to see that Charlie wasn't in bed, but she could hear the chatter of him and Isabelle downstairs. The clock read 11.46am.

After a much needed shower and change of clothes she headed down to the kitchen for coffee. She'd need a ton to get through today. Charlie was sat at his laptop whilst Isabelle was watching television. He didn't greet her or so much as look up when she entered.

"What time did I get home last night?"

"You tell me" he snapped the laptop shut, his eyebrows furrowed and jaw set

"I don't remember darling sorry, hope I wasn't too much of a pain"

"I could barely get you up the stairs, it's a wonder Izzy didn't wake up and see you in that _state_ " he spat the word and stood up. Eleanor was taken aback, she'd never seen him this angry at her before, she'd never seen him this angry full stop.

"What's the matter? You're not just annoyed because I came home a bit late and tripped up a few stairs?"

"Oh no" he said in a low voice and a chill ran down her spine, "It wasn't just the fact I waited up all night for you not knowing when or IF you were coming home. Couldn't _possibly_ have been the fact I knew your _husband_ was there and I'd not heard from you since the evening" she watched him turn and grab a folder from the shelf, he threw it on his desk in front of her. Oh. "maybe it was these that just tipped it all off"

The unsigned, unsent, untouched divorce papers glared up at her accusingly and she suddenly felt sick. Either from the monstrous hangover or the fact he'd exposed her deceit. She wasn't sure which contributed to her ill feeling more.

"Well?" he demanded, Eleanor glanced over at Isabelle to see she was intently listening, focussing on the two adults bickering.

"I don't know what you want me to say"

"How about some truth El, because I sure as hell would like to hear some"

"Charlie I know it looks bad but I've been busy, I just haven't got round to it" she tried to sound calm, to sound genuine but she wasn't sure if her tone was going to convince him. Of course she'd had time, she'd spent enough time just staring at them, thinking about them, willing her goddamn pen to squiggle her signature along the paper but it just never happened.

"Ever since that night El, ever since he came round with the blasted things you've been different. Odd"

"That's not true" she said shakily, a lump rising in her throat. Isabelle was still watching quietly, unsure if she should be taking notice or not and Eleanor made a point of not raising her voice in front of the child.

"It fucking is don't play that card with me! You're distant you're distracted, you barely even let me touch you anymore"

"Charlie please" she nodded at his daughter whose eyes were wide at hearing her dad shout and swear so loud.

"Don't even try to use her, you know it, we both know it" he pointed with a shaking finger, his temple throbbing with anger, "ever since that night you've changed. Now you're going out drinking with him and you haven't even signed the pissing divorce papers, you tell me, what am I supposed to think? Eh?" she looked down and unconsciously started fiddling with her necklace

"I wish you'd take that fucking thing off!"

Eleanor stared at him. His words couldn't help but make her feel she'd been an absolute cow. Maybe she had. Maybe this was long overdue.

"Charlie I don't want to talk about this right now, lets calm down and we can discuss it later"

Ignoring her he put on his coat, grabbing his keys he held out his hand for Isabelle to take,

"Come on Izzy we need to leave"

"Wait, where are you going!" Eleanor panicked, surely he wasn't going to just walk out like this.

"Isabelle has an appointment, or did you forget?"

The door slammed behind them. Eleanor clasped a hand over her mouth to stop her from sobbing out loud and th tears followed. What had she done.

At 221B Sherlock sat forward with his head in his hands, he was unsure. He hated that. He hated the fact that bloody woman could make him feel so uncertain about himself, one of the things he prided in himself most and she could just flippantly make him doubt everything. He reached in his trouser pocket and pulled out his wallet, he opened it and pulled out the scan of his child, his son. Sherlock couldn't remember the last time he had cried, it was so long ago now he'd forgotten how it felt.

 **AN/ Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

_Sherlock furiously belted out random tunes on his violin, a way of venting out his pent up frustrations. There was a soft knock at the door before the unmistakable sound of Mycroft's footfalls, accompanied by a third clunk of his umbrella on the hard wood floor._

" _Ah, brother" he set down his instrument and threw himself on the sofa, "surely you must have something?"_

 _Mycroft looked uneasy, "Absolutely nothing. He is squeaky clean"_

 _Sherlock swore. He had been hoping Mycroft would have found something on him, anything remotely criminal would have done. But he had no history of anything of the sort._

" _His records are quite crystal. Worked both in and out of the European Union for little over 6 years, his wife left him shortly after their child was born, they divorced almost immediately after. Said child has a heart condition which requires hospital visits four to six times per month but I suspect you're already aware of that from your own deductions. There is no indication of any criminal activity or foul play of any kind, he is as they say, quite the patron"_

" _Bank details? Policies? Investments? Convictions? All clear?"_

" _Transparently so"_

" _GAHH! There's something obvious, something staring me in the face" Sherlock started pacing_

" _My my, is the great detective losing his touch?" Mycroft smirked and his brother shot him an annoyed glance, "luckily for you I found something - not exactly criminal, but incriminating enough for a certain someone we know to think twice. As far as permissible legally is concerned he is innocent but I found that he does however have a rather repetitive stay at the Huston Hotel in south London, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who works away as often as he does BUT he has chosen a rather a peculiar choice of name for himself" he picked up the envelope Sherlock had neglected to even open, "and also the intervals of which he stays doesn't quite tally up with his work, if you'll see here. Every fourth Wednesday and second Friday he checks in as a Mister Thomas O'Mally. I also took the liberty of providing invoices of his room service records which I think you will find quite interesting"_

 _Sherlock took the documents from his brother and scanned them carefully, the cogs working at warp speed in his brain before his eyes widened in realisation_ "Oh"

" _Oh indeed dear brother"_

Charlie and Isabelle returned from the hospital little over two hours later, Isabelle looked tired and fed up, another long process of having tests and examinations no doubt.

"Hi sweetheart, how are you feeling?" Eleanor had rushed to the front door when she'd heard Charlie's car on the gravel outside.

"I'm okay" Isabelle said brightly, "my chest hurts though"

Eleanor removed her coat and scarf for her and hung it on the banister, "well how about you snuggle down on the couch and I'll bring us some ice cream and we'll watch a film together, how does that sound?"

The little girl nodded and made her way into the living room silently. Charlie was still stood in the doorway looking sullen.

"What did they say?" she asked, worried at the expression on his face

"They want to start doing more regular check ups, nothing out of the ordinary they said but there was some irregular readings from her results, they just want to make sure she isn't deteriorating again. We have to go back on Thursday"

"I see, what did they say would happen if the irregularity continues?"

"Well then we're looking at a long hospital stint" he sighed and passed her with his head down.

"Charlie can we talk?"

"Eleanor don't you think I have enough to deal with right now? We'll talk about it later, I have some work to catch up on from yesterday" and with that he disappeared into his study, slamming the door behind him. Eleanor didn't even have time to dwell on it before a little voice was calling her.

"El'nor the film is on quick!"

She quickly bustled into the kitchen for the promised ice cream and grabbed two spoons. In the living room Isabelle was sat on the couch with a blanket tucked up to her chin, Eleanor squeezed in next to her and they both dug in. They sat quietly for a while enjoying Cinderella when Isabelle very suddenly struck up a rather odd conversation for a 4 year old.

"Daddy said I am going to a nur-ser-y" she struggled through a mouthful of ice cream and Eleanor looked surprised,

"What do you mean sweetheart?"

"He said I'm going to go and play with other children and it's going to be like a pre-school"

Eleanor was sure she didn't even understand what a pre-school was properly, obviously Charlie had had a rather in depth conversation with her on their trip to the hospital.

"Did he now?" Isabelle nodded and Eleanor's stomach dropped. A pre-school? What on earth did he want her to go there for? That's why he had hired her in the first place, to be a nanny. Isabelle was as Charlie had put it a very delicate child. The opportunity for her to start any form of lengthily unsupervised interactions with other children had been and gone, and by Charlie's doing. So why now?

"Well, I think I need to have a word with daddy"

"Are you and daddy getting a divorce?"

 _Blimey._ Eleanor thought, she was full of random queries tonight.

"No Izzy, me and daddy are not married. You need to be married to get a divorce"

"Oh.. Why are you and daddy not married? Daddy said when two people love each other they get married. And when they don't love each other they get a divorce.. Like when you're friend with the wiggly hair came here. You and daddy shout a lot" she shoved another scoop of ice cream into her mouth, "Is it because I'm sick?"

"Nooooo baby. Of course not. I think daddy has you a bit confused. Where have you got all this from Isabelle?" she looked up at her step-mum with tired eyes, Eleanor could see she was full of questions.

"I don't want you to go away" she started sadly into her now melting dessert.

"Don't you worry, I'm not going anywhere" she tried to sound no coherent as she pulled her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head, "I love you too much"

Seemingly satisfied Isabelle returned her attention to the film.

"What's all this about a playschool or whatever else you've been filling her head with?"

"It's about time" he said removing his watch and placing it on the nightstand, "she's the proper age, she needs to socialise with other children more"

"Where's all this come from, you were telling me we need to be more careful with her before because of what the hospital said. Charlie you make no sense" she sat up in bed, this was the first time she'd seen him since he'd disappeared into his study earlier. Eleanor had cooked Isabelle's tea, watched a film with her, done the bedtime routine of bath, pyjamas, story and bed, whilst Charlie had popped his head round the door to tell her goodnight to find she'd already fallen asleep.

"No El, _you_ make no sense"

"Don't be absurd" she folded her arms.

"Oh, me? I'm being absurd? Have you heard yourself recently Eleanor?"

"Don't start an argument, Izzy's asleep, I only asked a simple question"

Charlie sighed impatiently.

"You want to know why?" he said removing his shirt before bed and Eleanor looked away, "I don't want her to get attached to you. I don't want her to get hurt. It was bad enough Tracy left her I..."

Eleanor looked at him confused, "What on earth are you talking about Charlie?"

"You know full well" he said and somehow that was the end of the discussion, "I'll sleep in the spare room tonight"


	17. Chapter 17

Last nights argument continued the following morning, subsided when Charlie went to work then came back in full force the next evening. She couldn't deny Sherlock turning up hadn't put a spanner in the works, and she couldn't deny that she still felt something for him. But she could deny it to Charlie, she had too. This was her life now, she choose Charlie and Isabelle and she wasn't going to let all that slip through her fingers, and even after all the certainty about what she wanted she still hadn't sent off the bloody divorce papers.

Since Charlie returned from work things had stayed at the same level of tense as they had been that morning, he'd slept in the spare room that night which was an absolute first.

She'd done tea for them all which Charlie seemed reluctant to eat then set about putting a wash on, he spent some time with Isabelle whilst she did the ironing, he then went for a shower whilst she put their clothes away and tidied the living room, he watched telly whilst she put his daughter to bed. It was all feeling more and more one sided on Eleanor's part and this was what stirred up the next argument.

"I work long hours so I can provide for you and Izzy" he set down his fifth beer of the night, Charlie wasn't much of a drinker so this was fairly unusual for him.

"You're not listening to me, Isabelle needs you to be present. Not just to be physically there but she needs you to be _present._ To listen to her and take interest in her day, to ask her things and just damn well be involved with her life"

"Christ Eleanor!" he slammed his fist down on the table, then immediately regretted it, looking up to the ceiling and listening for footsteps, hoping that he hadn't woke his daughter. Eleanor started at him with wide eyes, "Sorry, hey look" he quickly mellowed and took her face in his hands, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry I didn't mean to lash out I'm just stressed. What with Izzy being poorly and Tracy giving me grief. Forgive me El I know I've been an ass this past few days"

"Yes you have" her voice was strained.

He sighed.

"It's just like I said yesterday. We had a really good thing going me and you and then _he_ just turns up randomly out of the blue and I know it sounds childish but I feel second best to someone who hasn't been here" he plonked himself down back in his chair, trying to find the right words. "You're always making an excuse up to not be intimate with me I can't help but put two and two together and I'm starting to think if the problem might actually be me"

Eleanor felt at a loss. What could she say?

"Charlie, please listen, it isn't you or anything it's m-"

"'It's not you it's me?' Really El come off it. You won't even divorce him now which puts me in a shitty light shagging his wife" she scrunched her nose at the vulgar use of language,

"Don't say it like that it makes me feel cheap"

"You still love him don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous" she folded her arms and held his gaze, the stare he was giving her was so intense the vain in his forehead looked like it was going to pop.

"Cut the crap El it's written all over your face"

"You" she moved forward and cupped her hand to his jaw, "I love you"

She bent and kissed his nose lightly, a display of tenderness he seemingly needed because his shoulders relaxed from the ridged position he's held them in all night.

"Please darling I'm just not feeling myself recently it's nothing to do with you, here" she blatantly lied and grabbed his hand to lead him upstairs.

She walked him backwards to their bed and sat him down, bunching her nightie up so she could straddle him. "I love," she then kissed his nose again and then his cheek, "you."

That was as much encouragement as he needed for the moment.

She woke up during the night, Charlie's arm was laying heavily on her chest, he'd taken her particularly rough that night, it was becoming more frequent she had noticed, in the few and far between times they'd actually engaged in such activities since the Sherlock issue that is. Their once thorough love making had as of late become almost painful and rushed, like the honeymoon period was over and he was content with just seeing himself satisfied.

She padded over to the bathroom and switched on the light, her reflection in the mirror stared sleepily back at her, light bruises were beginning to appear around her neck and chest, and not just from playful toying. Finger marks were still white against her neck that she was sure would be a deep shade of bluey purple by morning. He'd apparently taken her _really_ rough that night. It's not that she minded so much it was just the intensity of it was getting out of hand. It was as though he couldn't snap out of it, he was so driven with frustration it was frightening.

She started running the hot water - suddenly feeling the urge to get clean - and perched on the edge of the tub with her head in her hands. Tonight had just made things a lot more messy for everyone concerned.

The next evening she met up with Mary after Charlie decided he was going to work from home as to spend more time with Isabelle and do a bit more around the house. John had taken Rosie to a late session swimming class so the two women had an hour or so to do some much needed catching up, which they did. Eleanor told Mary everything about Charlie and their recently fragile relationship, everything that had happened since the Christening. Mary had expressed giggly interest in seeing a certain person back together with another certain person then listed off all the pros (and then cons from Eleanor) of reestablishing the relationship.

The more the conversation about Eleanor's now messed up life went on the quicker they seemed to drink. It was almost three bottles of wine later when John came home to find the pair in an intolerable stare.

He'd left the house two and a half hours ago and returned to find his own wife slumped in one dining chair and Eleanor knocked out in the other.

"Oh for fucks sake" he exclaimed under his breath.

Mary stirred, "Oh you're back! What time is it?"

"It's twenty past seven you alky"

She blinked several times and noticed her friend still fast asleep facing her, "bloody hell"

"Bloody hell indeed, let me just go put Rosie down. See if what's his name's number is in her phone"

"We can't return her like this, Charlie will go mad!"

" _Return her_ , what've you got a receipt?"

He walked back into the dining room looking cross.

"John no, it was my stupid idea to drink wine" she hiccupped and nearly threw up, "besides if he thinks she's gonna come home pissed every time he's gonna turn into a bigger arsehole. You know what happened at the Christening"

"'Bigger arsehole?' What've you been talking about all night?" she gave him a knowing if ever so slightly queasy look, "never mind. Let's just get her home, I'd drive but someone needs to watch Rosie and I feel like you need to spend some time with your head in the toilet"

"No John, it was tricky enough getting Charlie to be okay with her coming here we can't send her home like this"

" _Send her home_? Charlie's _okay_ with it how old is she, five?"

"Trust me"

"She needs her own bed Mary, look at her!" he gestured at Eleanor who was snoring with her face in a puddle of her own saliva. He'd never really seen her like this unless she was with his wife. Terrible influence.

Mary gave him _that_ look and he almost physically jumped at the realisation.

"Ohh no you don't. I am not calling Sherlock"

"Mycroft then? Oh please John"

"Fucking mess" he mumbled reaching into his pocket for his phone as his wife practically hurtled to the bathroom.

Not twenty minutes later and they were both plonked on the couch feeling sorry for themselves. Eleanor was already drifting off again when Mycroft entered.

"My my Eleanor, what have we got here?" he then lent over her to inspect what he could see of her discoloured neck above her blouse with distaste.


End file.
